


Concerto

by operationcreek



Category: South Park
Genre: Acapella AU, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Drinking to Cope, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Other, POV Craig Tucker, POV Third Person Limited, POV Tweek Tweak, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Smoking, Swearing, not twenny im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-09-06 08:04:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operationcreek/pseuds/operationcreek
Summary: In his own opinion, Tweek Tweak's a mess of a human being. Having somehow achieved a scholarship to a renowned art college, Tweek has to learn to adapt to his new lifestyle while simultaneously wrestling with his inner demons, who never seem to stop haunting him.Falling for the school's resident bad boy sure doesn't seem to help, either.(Or, the acapella AU nobody asked for, but I really wanted to see.)





	1. Opportunities

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So, this is kinda my first fanfiction that I've ever written for any fandom ever. I've never really been good at creative writing or any of that sort, so I would really appreciate any criticism or suggestions for improvement! 
> 
> I also apologise if I ever describe seasons or schools weirdly. I'm from Southeast Asia so I've never experienced western culture/school environments, or different seasons other than Summer first hand. 
> 
> Please feel free to interact with me on Tumblr @ https://itsmeiiii.tumblr.com/ !! I would love to talk to more of you guys!!
> 
> Enjoy!

The soft rays of the Spring’s morning sun filtered through bleach white curtains, dust particles sparkling and drifting in the still air almost like snowflakes. Tweek Tweak stood in front of his mirror in the middle of his new dorm room. Sporting a button up white shirt and a pair of freshly pressed, neat black slacks, he shrugged on the school’s signature red blazer, black outlining its lapels, with the initials “S. P.” emblazoned in white on its breast pocket.   
  
He nervously pulled at his hair, now desperately trying to tame his blonde locks, which seem to stick out wildly no matter how hard he tugged. Giving up, Tweek frustratedly flopped onto his new bed.

He had just arrived at his new school, a college institute focused solely on developing talents in the forms of music and arts, after attaining a scholarship through months of applications. His parents would never have had the money to afford to send him here, so he was thankful for the opportunity to further study his passion. Armed with just a box of necessities, Tweek said goodbye to everything he knew his whole 18 years of life to start a fresh one here, at the prestigious South Park Academy of The Arts.

Tweek hadn’t been truly anxious until this moment. Lying here in an unfamiliar bed, alone in his new dorm room, it suddenly became all too real.

He could feel lips quivering. 

He bit his bottom lip in an effort to still the shaking. Maybe a little too hard, as sharp teeth pierced through delicately thin skin, drawing out small droplets of blood. 

He just hoped he made the right choice to come here. 

A feeling started to snake through his veins, rapidly clawing their way through his thoughts, a hungry demon gnawing away on his sanity. 

A sensation all too familiar to him. 

_You’re going to fail all your classes, your scholarship will be revoked, and then you’ll have to go back home, back where nobody loves you, spaz._ The voice in his head viciously spat. 

_You’re wasting your time._ _Useless_ _._

It’s okay.  


_It’s not._

I’m not useless.

_But you are._

I’ve been through this. I can do this. I can do this—

_You can’t do this, who are you kidding—_

The door to his dorm room slammed open, interrupting him mid-thought. The knuckle white grip he held on his sheets immediately loosened as Tweek let out an involuntarily yelp. A flurry of orange practically leaped towards him, knocking them both into the crisply laundered sheets of his neatly made bed.

“Tweekers!” Long arms smoothly wrapped around the blonde’s petite frame. “I’ve been waiting for this moment since I came here a year ago,” Tweek could hear the tearful grin in the figure’s voice. “I missed you, you know,” the voice purred in his ear. 

“K-Kenny!” Tweek squeaked out as he wriggled under Kenny’s iron grip, gasping for air.

“What, am I not allowed to give hugs to my favourite blonde now?” Kenny released Tweek as they both sat up, his arms now up in mock surrender.

“It’s just—man, it’s been awhile, dude!” Drawing back, Tweek took the chance to get a good look at his friend. Coarse, sandy blonde hair, golden brown lashes wreathing dark ocean blue eyes, and a smattering of dark freckles across his nose and cheeks. 

He was wearing the same radioactive orange parka that has definitely seen better days, but by now Tweek automatically associates with the familiarity that is Kenny. Nothing about his older friend had changed much in the year they were apart, with the only difference being that Kenny had seemingly grown half a foot taller than himself. 

“You’re telling me.” Kenny smiled widely. “So, you ready for a tour of the campus lead by yours truly?” 

“It’s fine, I-I don’t want you trouble you or anything like that!” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kenny softly chuckled. “Take it as me wanting someone to admire lil’ ol’ me during my performance later,” he grinned mischievously, playfully batting his long lashes.  


“Performance? You’re…performing later?”

“Oh Tweekers, you didn’t know?” Kenny said, hand fluttering to his chest in mock indignation. “I’m part of _Octavius_!” he announced proudly, puffing his chest.  
  
A beat of silence followed.  
  
“…Octavius?” Tweek sounded out slowly, his confusion evident.

Kenny spluttered. “What the hell, Tweek? Do you know nothing about this school?”

The blonde broke into a sheepish and almost apologetic grin. Kenny responded with a flabbergasted expression plastered on his face.

“The school’s famous Acapella group?” Kenny continued.

Tweek’s only reply to that was another blank stare.

Kenny started gesturing wildly with his hands, “ _C'mon_ Tweekers, we’re so damn popular even the chicks from the other schools come over to watch our performances, and you know _nothing_ about us?”

“I’m not one of your lovelorn ‘chicks’, Kenny,” The words spilled before he could even stop himself. “You aren’t charming me out of my pants _that_ easily,” he grinned.

As if not expecting that response, Kenny’s mouth gaped before throwing his head back in wild laughter.

“Hey, can’t blame a dude for trying.” he snickered, wiping a tear from his eye.

“So, Acapella, huh?”

“Yeah, Acapella! You know, performing a song without the use of instruments?”

Tweek wrinkled his nose in doubt. How could voices possibly replicate the depth of sound produced by instruments?

As if he was reading his mind, Kenny rolled his eyes. “Don’t look so skeptical, dude. Come on, I’ll show you.”

* * *

The theatre was almost pitch black when both of them entered. Rows and rows of seats seemingly entirely filled with people, with most of them being females who don’t seem to even attend the school. 

The crowd seemed to hold an almost tangible excitement, the air buzzing with noise and laughter. Fumbling and unable to see, Tweek stumbled, almost tripping, with his only guide being the hand dragging him to the front rows of seats closest to the stage. “C’mon,” Kenny said, “I saved you a seat up front!”.

Tweek quickly got settled into one of the empty chairs as Kenny whispered to him eagerly, “Remember to look out for me,” He winked at Tweek. And just as quickly as he appeared this morning in Tweek’s dorm, the flurry of orange swiftly blended into the crowds of people, leaving the blonde sitting alone in the dark. 

After a few moments, a woman’s voice cut through the noise. “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, _Octavius_!”

As if on cue, the noise in the theatre immediately quelled into a silence of anticipation.

A chorus of voices resounded out from the stage, a beautiful harmony of voices erupting, piercing the air with their melody. A spotlight suddenly flashes onto the middle of the stage, revealing a tall, slim figure. 

He was dressed in a dark navy tailcoat, its ends drifting down his long slender legs. The vest seemed almost tailor made to perfectly suit and accentuate his lean body, clinging onto his figure tightly. Underneath, he wore a white button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows with the top few buttons undone, revealing slightly tanned skin underneath. He opened his mouth, a deep rumbling voice spilling out into the darkness. 

_Ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for_

  
The chorus sounds out again, and the figure remains still in the spotlight, face down and largely obscured by a glove covered hand, lightly tipping a black silk top hat. The other hand loosely gripped onto a ringmaster’s cane.

_Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor_

Tapping the cane on the wooden floor to the rhythm with a resounding _clack_ , the low, baritone voice continued.

_And buried in your bones there's an ache that you can't ignore_

Despite being so close to the stage, Tweek could barely make out what the figure looked like. Beneath the hand, the blonde could only make out a semblance of a smirk on the man’s face, confidence oozing with every word he sings. 

_Taking your breath, stealing your mind_

The smirk on his face widened, as his deep voice flooded the auditorium, the audience hanging onto every word. Tweek, and it seems the entire audience, was enraptured by the magnetic force of attraction this person seemed to emit.

_And all that was real is left behind_

The figure tilted his head up sharply, both hands resting on the cane now. The first thing that Tweek notices is that the singer has very bright, blue eyes. They gleamed in the spotlight, almost like beautiful sapphires, sparkling with an excitement that Tweek had never seen before. 

_Don't fight it, it's coming for you, running at ya_

_It's only this moment, don't care what comes after_

_It's blinding, outshining anything that you know_

_Just surrender 'cause you're calling and you wanna go_

Holding onto his top hat, the figure bounded across the stage, moving and striding gracefully as he sang, as if second nature to him. Spotlights flashed on, revealing the rest of the acapella group, the source of the beautiful harmonies heard before. Tweek vaguely wondered where Kenny was in all of this, narrowing his eyes before spotting his friend, singing and obviously lost in the moment.   
  
_Where it's covered in all the coloured lights_

_Where the runaways are running the night_

_Impossible comes true, intoxicating you_

_Oh, this is the greatest show!_

Tweek held his breath in awe. Their voices melded together to form an amazing medley, complete with beatboxing, sopranos and bass altos, creating music he never thought would be possible without the use of instruments. Unlike the main vocalist, they were all dressed in the college’s signature red and black uniforms, moving along to the beat of the song.

_We light it up, we won't come down_

_And the sun can't stop us now_

_Watching it come true, it's taking over you_

_Oh, this is the greatest show!_

Tweek’s attention had now completely refocused on the one blue-eyed vocalist, who was now breathing hard, raven hair now messy and slightly plastered to his forehead, spilling out the front of his silk hat. 

_It's everything you ever want_

_It's everything you ever need_

_And it's here right in front of you_

_This is where you wanna be_

The tall figure had drifted down the stage, to the audience below it. Much to the delight of the squealing fangirls seated close to the front rows, as they reached out their hands, hoping for a chance to get a brief touch of the _oh-so-charming_ vocalist. Tweek briefly heard them shout out to the singer, watching them clamour over each other as they tried desperately to get his attention.

The vocalist seemed to simply ignore them, passing them quickly, his voice still ringing out, a sanguine smile playing on his lips. As he passed by the blonde, his eyes snapped onto Tweek’s, their gazes locking on each other. To Tweek, time seemed to slow to a complete stop.  
  
Green eyes meeting crystal blue ones.  
  
Tweek felt like his entire being was electrified, every nerve on edge as if lit on fire. He felt a breath escape his lips, leaving him feeling like he should be gasping for oxygen, as if drowning in the dulcet tones of this stranger’s voice. 

The raven haired singer was now staring directly at Tweek as he sang, neither breaking the other’s gaze.

_It's everything you ever want_

 _It's everything you ever need_

_And it's here right in front of you_

_This is where you wanna be_

It ended just as quickly as it started. Shattering the moment, the vocalist looked away as he smoothly strode back on stage to finish the rest of the performance, leaving Tweek in a daze, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.

* * *

At the end, the performers all lined up to the front of the stage, linking arms and taking a deep bow. The audience erupted in applause and whistles, a standing ovation. Tweek sat in stunned silence, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

With the lights in the theatre now fully on, Tweek now started to notice that the noirette was _really attractive_. He was _tall_ — sporting broad shoulders and a lean waist, his face all strong cheekbones and sharp jawlines. He had tanned skin, and his oil-black hair had grown a little too long, making the waves in them slightly loose and messy. A stark contrast to his almost ethereal blue eyes, which were framed by a pair of long, thick eyelashes, and brows that seem to be perpetually furrowed into a scowl. And yet, somehow, the absolutely cold expression he held seemed to only contribute to his features.   
  
In short, his presence was entirely both mesmerising and yet intimidating to Tweek Tweak in every, single, way.

Now that the performance has ended, Tweek observed that the singer’s once fiery eyes now resembled much more like ice, and his previously playful and confident smirk had now settled into a completely nonchalant and almost bored expression. The top hat was now off, and he casually carded a hand through his hair, pushing it off his face and wiping the sweat off his forehead. _I can’t believe that this is still the same person that was performing just a few minutes ago,_ Tweek mused to himself.

The noirette’s blue eyes drifted lazily throughout the audience, as though looking to pinpoint someone in the large crowd of nameless faces. The brunette linking arms with the raven-haired vocalist was excitedly babbling through a microphone.   
  
“Remember, our group tryouts are being held next week! If you think you’ve got what it takes to join us,” he snickered as he got a quick elbow to his side by the person standing next to him, a black, suave looking male.

“Or you know, if you just want to hang out with the coolest kids in school—”

This time, the black male practically snatched the microphone out from the brunette’s hands. “Auditions are held here, in this auditorium at 5.p.m. to 7.p.m. next week from Wednesday to Friday,” he smiled, charm and poise practically oozing off him. “All are welcome to try out, don’t be shy!”   
  
Throughout the announcement, the black haired vocalist remained silent, choosing instead to aimlessly stare off into the distance.

With that, the boys exited the stage, laughing and talking amongst each other as they left. The audience quickly erupted  back with noise, excited chattering discussing and describing the amazing performance they’d all just witnessed.

* * *

“You should totally try out for the auditions, Tweeks. You’ve got an amazing voice.” 

Kenny had found him again sometime after the performance, and the pair were now seated at a table in the cafeteria, along with the rest of the school’s busy lunch crowd. 

“What? How would you know that?!” Tweek exclaimed, damn near choking on his food. His cheeks suddenly felt like they were burning red hot with embarrassment. He quickly buried his face in his hands, fork clanging loudly into his lunch tray. 

“C’mon Tweekers,” Kenny cooed affectionately, “We used to do theatre together! Remember how in middle school you used to perform in like, _all_ the lead roles?” his blue eyes twinkled, smiling as though recalling an especially fond memory. 

Yeah, but that was back when he was a _kid,_ Tweek thought bitterly to himself. 

Back before he grew aware of the hushed insults and pointed looks whenever he passed through the endlessly long hallways of his old school. 

Before he started fearing the rude jeers and ear-piercing laughter that erupted from his peers whenever he even dared to open his mouth. 

And _definitely_ way before he started shaking violently at just the mere thought of having to go on stage (or in front of anyone, really), sometimes so bad that it felt like the ground below him was somehow swirling and expanding and swallowing him up all at the same time.

Tweek winced at the aforementioned memories of what were, in his honest opinion, piss poor imitations of actual theatre. He picked up his neglected fork and started begrudgingly poking at his food again. 

“Y-yeah right, you were _always_ Mr Garrison’s first choice to be the lead roles for, like, all of them.” Kenny’s always been a talented actor, unlike himself, having cinched one of the university’s most coveted scholarships for the acting program.

“You just always chose to play the female roles instead, which led him to his s-second choice.” 

“Hey, to be fair, I look absolutely _killer_ in high heels.” Kenny smirked, obviously proud of himself. 

“Anyways, that’s besides the point. You need to join us! Share your talent with the world!”

“W-What?!” 

Tweek was sure he was just a single heartbeat away from a fucking full blown heart attack. 

“What are you even saying?! I could n-never do that!” 

“Why not? You’d fit right in, Tweeks.”

Sing? Kenny expected him to actually sing and prance around in front of a large crowd of _actually_ talented students? Tweek was only here on a fucking _piano_ scholarship, for Christ's sake.

“That’s w-way too much pressure!”

As if sensing his sudden spike in anxiety, Kenny merely leaned back and sighed. “Just think about it, okay? I think it’d be good for you,” he gave Tweek a soft smile, and _that look_. That look in his deep, azure blue eyes that always seemed to Tweek like he knew so much more than he ever let on.

“No pressure or anything,” he continued after a meaningfully long pause, taking another bite of his food.  
  
Tweek tried hard to form a response, but his brain and voice just refused to cooperate. Instead, he just grunted a noncommittal reply as his hands silently shook, lost deep in a pool of his own thoughts.  
  
A mixture of feelings boiled in Tweek’s stomach as he thought back to the performance. Who was that vocalist? The churning in his gut just grew stronger at the thought of the raven-haired male. 

He seemed to exude such a confidence and an aura that Tweek could never have. Ugh, he _wishes_ he could be more like him. How does Kenny even expect him to fit right in, with people like him? Tweek wasn’t so hungry anymore, now feeling like he was immediately going to be sick. He stabbed listlessly at his soggy salad.

But… it seemed like they were all having so much fun. Tweek’s never had that before. A stage where he could perform, with a crowd that would actually be excited to watch him, instead of looks of disgust, or worse, _pity_ , that were usually thrown at him all throughout his life due to his nervous tics and “weird, theatrical hobbies”. 

The _Fucking pity_ , the voice in his head snarled, was the _worst_. It always came with that underlying condescension, a similar kind you gave to a panhandler while lying through your teeth about having no change. 

Tweek wanted so much for it to be different. No more disgust. No more _pity_.   
  
A group where he could be accepted.  
  
A place that he could finally, _maybe_ belong.  
  
Perhaps he should try out after all. 


	2. Sunflowers

Sunflowers.

A vast field of them, for as far as Craig could see.

Their petals fluttered and tall thin stems swayed, the sweet floral scent of the blossoms dancing in the soft breeze.

The flowers acted almost like paintbrushes, colours dusting off onto a canvas of the sunset sky, staining its horizon a similar shade of vibrant yellow.

And standing in the middle of the field, a slim figure with long, blonde hair. The shade of her hair was so close to the florets that it smoothly melded into the scene. She was wearing a dress of vivid green. Green, like the grass in the summertime, sparkling bright, and yet soft with morning dew. It always was her favourite colour.

She turned, and smiled.

He watched as she opened her mouth.

_Craig._

“Craig.” 

He felt his vision of the world fading. No, not now. He screwed his eyes shut, trying desperately to grip onto the memory before it threatened to slip away from him once again.

“Craig! Wake up!”  
  
His eyes shot open. Disoriented and giddy, he winced as painfully bright sunlight pierced his eyes.  
  
“Fuck, what’s going on?” Craig sputtered, still half-asleep. He struggled to sit up, muscles and limbs screaming at the sudden movement in refusal.

“You missed our date!”

Date?

He forced his eyes to focus on the person before him. She had platinum blonde hair put up into a tight bun, with well-manicured hands resting angrily on her hips.

Oh, right. What was her name again? Hayley? …Heather?  
  
“We were supposed to meet, like, two hours ago and… Are you crying?”

His hand instinctively reached up to touch his cheeks. Warm liquid seeped into his fingertips. Cursing, he angrily palmed them away. _That fucking dream again_. 

“The fuck do you want? And how in the living _hell_ did you even get in?” Craig was starting to feel a faint prickling of frustration.  
  
She looked extremely offended, as if it was ludicrous that he’d even asked her that.

“I’m not the one at fault here, Craig. We were supposed to meet at eleven after lessons and it’s already one in the afternoon!” She chastised.

“You’ve been ignoring me and cutting class for the past week, since the night that I asked you out, and I was just worried.” Her voice was almost pleading now. Her expression softened into one that almost resembled a pout, as she brushed her fringe out of her eyes.

“Doesn’t give you the right to enter my fucking room.” 

“I shouldn’t need permission to enter my boyfriend’s—“ 

“Leave.” His voice came out harsher than he’d intended.

“What?” She visibly recoiled.

“I said, leave. You have no right to be in here.”

She took a step back, opening her mouth before closing it again, lips narrowing into a tight line. She looked as though she was digging deep for the right words to express the livid _rage_ that splayed across her face. He could see her eyes starting to water, brimming with unshed tears.

“That’s it. I had enough, Craig Tucker. You can’t keep treating me like— like we’re not even dating! We’re over. _Have a nice life._ " With that, she stormed away, slamming the room door loudly behind her.

Fuck. What just happened?

_As if this isn’t a normal occurrence in your life, Craig._

The annoying voice in his head was mocking him now.  
  
Great.  
  
_What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s a nice girl. Why the fuck do you even get with girls you don’t care about? Why don’t you ever feel anything for them?_

 _You’re broken._  
  
He groaned in frustration and dragged a hand across his face. This was not how he wanted to start a Monday, or any day at all, in fact. Pushing the hair off his forehead, he picked up his phone.

_Entered Group Chat “Those Guys”_

_  
Clyde — dude where r u_

_Clyde — auditions strted lik an hr ago_

_Clyde — fk bro u always do dis :(_  
  
Message Received Friday, January 28th, 6:15 p.m. Read ✔  
  


_Token — Craig, are you coming to the club meeting later?_

_Token — It’d be nice if you attended to meet our new members._

_Token — We just got a new Tenor._

_Clyde — ya bro his voice is fking sickkkk_

_Clyde — n u kno how hard it is 2 find tenors_

_Clyde — also u shld come cuz jimmy says he arranged smth new for us_

_Clyde — we got dat annual valentines performance thing we hav to practice 4 n we need u k_

_Clyde — pls come i miss u  
_

_Jimmy — If you dont attend again I will personally find you and I will kill you_

_Last Message Received Today, January 31st, 11:38 a.m._   
  


Groaning again, he carelessly flung his phone into his mattress and began to get dressed. He reluctantly pulled on his blazer, before reaching for his well-worn blue chullo and tugging it forcefully over his head. Sounds of excited squealing and the speedy turning of wheels made him stop in his tracks. He dove into his drawers, retrieving a piece of dried fruit and headed towards the cage.  
  
“At least I have you, Stripe. You’re never annoying.” He whispered affectionately.

The guinea pig only squeaked in response, tiny brown paws reaching up eagerly for the treat he held in between his fingers. Craig softly smiled.

* * *

  
Craig shuffled down the corridor, hesitating as he reached the entrance of the clubroom. Taking a deep breath, he pulled on its handle. Conversations broke and heads turned curiously as he entered. A brunette was now charging at him.

“Dude, you came! I can’t believe it.” Clyde was smiling so hard his eyes disappeared into lines. He pulled him into a tight hug which Craig half-heartedly returned, ruffling his friend’s hair as they pulled away.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Lay off. I had a bad morning.” He tugged his chullo by its ears, attempting to pull them down over his eyes. Force of habit. 

Token walked up from behind Clyde, as he raised an eyebrow. “Does it maybe have something to do with Heidi?”  
  
Right. _Heidi_. That was her name.

“She dumped me.” He muttered. The words didn’t even sting at all. Shouldn’t he be feeling sad or something? _God, I really am broken.  
_

“Gee, I wonder why. Might it be the fact that you never paid attention to her? Or maybe that you’ve never even tried to hold her hand?” Token’s tone was dripping in thick sarcasm.

“… Or even acknowledged her, in public, ever?” Clyde added. 

“Fuck off.” He flipped them off.

His friends started laughing at him in unison as he inwardly groaned. _Could this day get any worse?_

“Okay, okay. Enough f-f-f-fucking around.” Craig heard the distinct clicking of crutches crossing the floor behind him.

“Jimmy.”

“Craig. G-G-Glad you could finally join us.” He rolled his eyes.

“Yes. Once again, the amazing Craig has arrived to make his once in a lifetime appearance. Hooray.” Craig deadpanned.

“ _Craig,_ " Oh no. Token’s using his mom voice. “We just care about you. You need to attend meetings more often. You’re on the committee for a reason.”

“Yeah well, the only reason why I even joined this group was because of Clyde, anyway.”  
  
Everyone around him knew that wasn’t the truth. If anyone really knew Craig, the first thing they’d mention is the fact that what he liked most was performing. The thrill and adrenaline rush of being on a stage with an adoring audience in the crowd, it was definitely a feeling that you could never even hope to get anywhere else.

But most importantly, it was a distraction. A chance for him to get away, for just a few moments in his life, where he didn’t need to be Craig.

And performing is a hell of a distraction.

“Dude, I missed you so much! It’s been so hard without you, the girls barely even notice me and they ignore me when I try to talk to them and it’s so difficult—“ Clyde rambled on about his latest problems regarding the opposite sex as they took their seats in the studio. Craig tried his best to listen, but his attention was drifting away to the rest of the club room. He noticed a few new faces that he’d never seen before, and the some of the same old ones that Craig’s gotten to know in the past year he’s been part of Octavius, which was ever since he joined the school.

“Hey Tucker. Surprised to see you here,” A figure stood imposingly in his line of sight. Craig tilted his head lazily upward to meet his gaze.

Black, immaculately coiffed hair. Blue eyes that mirrored his own. Fair skin.

Craig narrowed his eyes. “Marsh.”

“For someone on the committee, you sure couldn’t give less of a fuck.” Stan scoffed.  
  
Craig shot up from his seat. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he leaned forwards tauntingly. “That’s because I _don’t._ ”

“Then why are you even _here_?” Stan challenged as he stepped forward, his posture threatening.

“C’mon Stan, drop it. We all just want the group to do well, don’t we?” Stan’s best friend, Kyle Broflovski, was now grabbing at the edge of Stan’s arm sleeve. His red curls were up in a small ponytail, loose rings of hair dangling off the side of his face. “Calm down,” Kyle reiterated, fierce green eyes fixed on his friend. “Wow, tensions sure are high around here!” Kenny whistled. “Why don’t we all just relax a little, huh?” He felt an arm wrap around his shoulder, dragging him and Stan in towards the tanned, mischievous blond.

“Shut up, McCormick.” Craig shoved the arm away.

Jesus, could things get anymore annoying right now? 

As if on cue, the door slammed open.

“A-Agh, sorry I’m late! I was busy practicing my scales, and I lost track of time and…” The guy choked as he made eye contact with Craig, and he audibly let out a squeak.  
  
Craig tilted his head to the side, visibly amused. The noise that the blond made reminded Craig of a certain little guinea pig. It was kind of… _adorable?_ For one, the boy was small, and more than half a foot shorter than Craig, who stood at an impressive 6’2”. He was slim, with porcelain skin so pale that it was almost see through. His round and _intensely_ green eyes _(that looked sort of familiar somehow)_ were framed with faint dark circles lightly hanging underneath, which only made the colour in his eyes that much more vibrant.

His nose was small, slightly curved, with a light dusting of freckles across. His fingers were wrapped in a mismatch of bandages and brightly coloured plasters. Craig noticed he was picking on them nervously. But the thing that caught Craig’s attention the most was his hair. It was wild, messy, and it curled softly on its ends. 

Bright, yellow hair.

It reminded him of…

“Don’t worry, at least you came.” Token side-eyed Craig. Craig pretended he didn’t notice.

“Tweeks!” Craig watched as Kenny immediately pulled the blonde around the shoulders into a familiar side hug. Wait, his name is Tweek? Craig couldn’t help but feel amused.  
  
“Oh yeah, Craig, this is Tweek. He’s our new tenor.” Token smiled at the blonde.

Craig eyed the person in the doorway. _This_ guy? The anxious, twitchy one that looks like he’s about to pass out just from being late to a meeting?

“Nice to meet you.” He raised an eyebrow, his voice even.

“N-Nice to meet you too.” Tweek replied in a small voice. He was staring at the floor, obviously trying his hardest to avoid meeting Craig’s stare.

“Alright guys, g-g-gather up!”

Still staring at his feet, Tweek hastily squeezed past Craig and promptly took a seat on the complete opposite side of the room. Kenny tutted. “You scared him, Tucker,” Kenny said disapprovingly, as he walked off and plopped down in a chair beside Tweek.

… Craig could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. 

He took his usual seat in corner of the back row of the studio, as Token strode into the middle of the room.  
  
“As you guys know, we just got a few new members who just joined us,” applause and whistles erupted from the group. “And we’d like for you to introduce yourselves, and for you to get to know us too.” Token nodded with a warm smile.   
  
“Firstly, let’s introduce the members of the committee. I’m Token, the President and events coordinator of Octavius,” Gesturing, he continued.

“This is Jimmy, our _extremely_ talented composer and choreographer, and the backbone of our group. He's in charge of all our arrangements,” Wolf whistles sounded out as Jimmy took an exaggerated bow. _Always the charmer._

Stan stood up from one of the front row seats and walked over to take his place beside Token. “I’m Stan Marsh, Vice President,” He nodded with a kind smile, a hand casually resting in his pocket. “Please let me know if you ever need anything. And that is…”

“Kyle Broflovski,” The redhead interjected from his seat. “Secretary. It’s nice to meet you all.” He was clutching onto a thick notebook and pen, having been taking notes throughout the entire meeting.

“And I’m Clyde! And I beatbox! And sing, too,” Clyde excitedly declared, bouncing out of his seat. “Oh, and I’m also like, the treasurer, or something. I don’t really pay attention. Token’s usually in charge of all that stuff,” he grinned. Craig facepalmed.

“And lastly, we have, …” Token looked at Craig expectantly.

Sighing, he stood from his chair. “I’m Craig.” He sat back down. Token glared at him. “And I’m the...” The glare continued, harder this time. “... _welfare officer._ ” Craig dragged out through gritted teeth, eyebrows furrowing.

A giggle escaped into the room. Craig could swear it came from the mousy blond, who was now busy hiding his face in his hand.

And as the rest of the group began to introduce themselves to each other, it was finally Tweek’s turn. Craig leaned back on his chair, casually eyeing him as he stood up shakily.

“I-I’m T-Tweek, a-and I g-guess I’m the group’s new... t-tenor?” Tweek then flopped back onto his seat, seemingly exhausted just from blurting out that sentence.  
_  
This guy looks like he’s about to die just from introducing himself. How the fuck is he going to perform on stage in front of the whole school?_ Looking around the room, he could see from the faces of his peers that he wasn’t the only one who was skeptical.

Jimmy began passing out music sheets, each with their specific parts written on them.  
  
“As you all know, we have a performance on Valentine’s annually along with the girls’ acapella group,” Token announced while everyone grabbed their papers.

“And for this year, we’d decided to have our new tenor be the lead in our performance.”   
  
“M-Me?!” If Tweek were to shrink any smaller, Craig was sure as hell he’d just disappear into his uniform.

Kenny placed a hand on Tweek’s shoulder. “Relax, Tweekers. You got this. Just like in the audition, right?”  
  
Tweek nodded, but still seemed wholly unconvinced. 

Craig narrowed his eyes when Kenny leaned forward to whisper something into Tweek’s ear.

 _They’re testing you,_ the lips read, before curling into a small smirk.  
  
Tweek immediately stiffened. Craig stared as the colourfully wrapped fingers suddenly clenched tightly onto the music sheets, wrinkling the freshly printed papers.

* * *

They gradually began arranging themselves into a circle in the middle of the room, with him standing directly opposite of the blond.

They can’t possibly expect this guy to perform. Craig vaguely wondered what his voice would sound like. _Probably a lot like a scared mouse,_ he thought to himself.

_Well, anything goes. As long as he doesn’t screw up the song.  
_

And practice began. Disembodied voices in the group started to pipe up, different bits of the circle each filling up the silence of the studio with soft hums.

Craig then realised he couldn’t stop staring at Tweek, as something in his demeanour started to subtly shift once the harmonies of the song began to echo, and grow, and swell. Tweek’s stance seemed to slowly relax, heavy-lidded eyes now half closed, long eyelashes brushing his cheeks.

He watched as Tweek opened his mouth.

_Wise men say_

Only fools rush in

But I can't help

_falling in love with you_

… Wait, _what_? What the _fuck_? Craig gaped stupidly.

_Shall I stay,_

_would it be a sin_

_If I can't help_

_falling in love with you?_

He felt dumbfounded. How could someone— how could _anyone_ sing like that?

... Hold on, which part was he supposed to be singing again?

Craig was now acutely aware that Kenny _fucking_ McCormick was staring at him strangely. He tried to turn his attention back to his sheet, eyes frantically screening the paper, raking over the bars—

_Like a river flows,_

_surely to the sea_

_Darling so it goes,_

_Some things are meant to be_

Tweek was hitting those high notes so flawlessly that he made it seem completely effortless. His voice was bright and delicate, melodiously wrapping every syllable that escaped his lips. It was fuelled by raw, powerful emotion, and it stirred feelings in Craig that made him clench his fists tight, nails biting into his palm.

Tweek sang like he believed every single word that rolled off his tongue, flowing like wine, and it was _intoxicating._ Craig craved it, he wanted to— no— he _needed_ to listen to it more. It honestly felt like he was witnessing something unearthly. His fluffy hair and fluttering eyelashes were now enveloping Craig’s entire field of vision, until all he could focus on was yellow.

_Take my hand,_

_take my whole life too_

_For I can't help_

_falling in love with you._

And at the end of it all, there was only one thought that remained in Craig’s mind.

Sunflowers.

His hair reminded him of sunflowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I was actually inspired to write this song in for Tweek because of PTX's cover of the song. Do check it out, it's so amazing. 
> 
> I've also found that it's much easier for me to write in Craig's perspective. Writing in Tweek's is honestly a struggle, but it's a struggle I enjoy :')
> 
> Also shoutout to all the amazing SP fanfic writers and readers who commented when I first posted this story. You guys' comments really encouraged me to continue and I hope this lived up to your expectations. :D
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and do let me know your thoughts and critiques! I'm always looking to improve, so please do let me know what I can do better.
> 
> Thank you so much for your support!


	3. the chance to prove yourself

Tweek closed his mouth, ending the song. His whole body was shaking. The room around him was swirling, and the air around him deprived of oxygen. He was struggling to take a breath, coming in hasty puffs instead of its usual steady pace. _Oh god, oh god oh god oh god—_

Suddenly he was being tackled by a bunch of bodies, and at first all he felt was panic. _Oh my god they hated it, they’re going to beat me up—_ On instinct, he tensed himself, squeezing his eyes shut to prepare for the oncoming pain.

… But it never came.

“That was amazing!” 

The hands reaching out toward him were ruffling his hair and pulling him into hugs, playful smacks to the back with shouts of “Great job!”, and all that Tweek could do at that moment was just stand frozen in a daze, letting himself get dragged and pulled along in the excitement of his peers.

_They… liked it?_

_They liked my voice?_

Tweek felt his nerves instantly quell into a pleasant buzz of relief. The corners of his lips tugged upwards, and he was smiling so hard that it made the muscles in his cheeks hurt. The group members surrounded him, the noise of enthusiastic chattering and eager questions enveloping the atmosphere.

“You’re a great singer, Tweek. I’m glad that you’re part of us now,” Stan hummed. “Welcome to the team.” He gave a firm squeeze on Tweek’s shoulder before walking off. Warmth spread throughout his body, heart bubbling with pure happiness. _I’m part of the group!_ It felt almost like he was in a dream, one that Tweek never wanted to wake up from.

Yet out of the corner of his eye, he could see Craig standing passively at the side. He was staring directly at Tweek, eyebrows furrowed, and the edges of his mouth turned down into a frown. 

_  
He hated it._

_Craig hates my voice._  


And in an instant he came crashing down back to reality. Of course. _Of course_ the one person he wanted to impress hated it. 

“You… Your voice—” Craig said, taking a step towards him.

“I knew you could do it!” Kenny shouted as he shoved his way past Craig, interrupting his sentence. He grabbed Tweek by his shoulders, excitedly shaking him around with a huge toothy grin plastered on his face. The group that surrounded Tweek were now slowly dispersing, all of them engrossed in their own personal conversations.

“Y-Yeah…” Tweek forced a smile as he rubbed his arm absentmindedly.

“What’s wrong, Tweeks?”

“I-It’s nothing!” His eyes were instinctively drawn to the figure standing placid in the corner of the studio, who was now engaged in conversation with Token and Clyde.

Kenny’s eyes traced and followed Tweek’s line of sight, and it doesn't take long before realisation seemed to hit him.

“Hey, don’t worry about Tucker. He’s like that with everybody.” Tweek nodded, but the feeling in his gut still remained, heavy and unmoving.

Tweek propped himself onto one of the low-lying cabinets that aligned the windows of the room. Kenny followed suit, his weight leisurely resting on its smooth, white surface. The late afternoon sunlight was bright in the studio, casting their elongated shadows onto the room’s hardwood floor.

“Thanks, Kenny.”

“For what?”

“You know,” Tweek gestured his hands vaguely in the air. “Encouraging me. Believing in me. E-Even when no one else would.” _Not even myself._

“You’re much more talented than you know,” Kenny chuckled, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I don’t pitch for losers.” He gave Tweek a quick wink and playful nudge. Tweek let out a humourless laugh in response, mindlessly picking at the bandages on his fingers.

“… Hey. It’s Tweek, right?” The low, flat voice was once again directed at him.

Tweek froze, his heart thumping loud in his ears. Hesitantly, he raised his head to look at Craig, who was still staring with that same expression from before.

He gave the tiniest nod in response.

“Are you coming for practice on Wednesday?”

He looked quizzically at Craig, confusion evident on his expression. _Why_ , the voice in his mind purred. _He must really think you need it._ _Can’t have you fucking up the show, can we?_

The hands resting on his knees gripped tightly onto the smooth fabric of his uniform slacks. 

“Since when did you take such an interest in the group members’ attendances, _Mr. Welfare Officer?_ ” Kenny asked, a sly look inched itself on his face.

“Shut up, McCormick.”

“You don’t even come for most of our practices,” He peeled himself off the cabinets, the roguish grin growing wider by the second. Tweek watched as Kenny playfully wagged a finger at Craig, dangerously close to pushing him off the edge.

“Well, what’s the reason, Tucker?”

“I was just asking a _fucking_ question—”

“Yes,” Tweek cut in. “I’ll be here.” His voice was so painstakingly steady that it sounded foreign to his own ears. “I know that I need much more practice to be up to your standards.” The response was unanticipatedly bitter, even as he gave Craig a mirthless smile.

Craig didn’t reply, only choosing to stare back at him with tightened lips and narrowed blue eyes.

"Tweek?" His friend's concern was jarring, and it knocked him back to his senses.

He could feel himself choking up, the feeling digging its familiar claws into his chest. “Uhm, I’ve gotta go.” Seizing the rough straps of his bag, he pushed past the crowd and made a beeline for the door.

He made it out just in time just before the tears fell, leaving slick tracks down his face.

* * *

  
“Mr. Tweak?” The female’s voice, laden thick with a heavy french accent, had interrupted his train of thought.

“You _‘ave_ not been paying any attention _ze_ whole time!” She smacked a baton against the palm of her hands impatiently.

“I’m s-sorry, Ms. Étienne!”

She tutted in disapproval. “ _Zis_ is not the quality of work I expect from one of my students. Now, once more. Again! _Avec grâce!_ ”

Reluctantly, he straightened his posture and began pressing on the monochrome keys, fingers playing its accustomed dance across the old piano. He closed his eyes, letting the mellow tunes fill his head.

But the memory of yesterday’s events were seeping into his thoughts, crawling its way into every empty, unused crevice in Tweek’s mind.  


_“You… your voice—”_

What was he going to say?

_How much he hated it, of course._

Was I that bad?

 _Do you even need to ask, twitchy?_  


Tweek flinched, and his hands stuttered in place. The sound of the off-pitch key was ear-screechingly loud in the midsts of the composition.

“ _Non, non!_ _Ze_ way you are playing today, Mr. Tweak,” The older woman barked, pointing her baton at him like it was a weapon. “It _iz_ awful. _Shameful._ We must end here for today,” She waved her hand dismissively. “Go!”

“Yes, Ms. Étienne,” Tweek forced politely through tightly clenched teeth. He grabbed the music sheets off the piano rack, shoving them messily into his bag.

Shaky hands fumbled with the cold door knob, and he marched out of the room, pace brisk, eyes fixated on the floor.  


_Fucking up even on the one thing you’re supposed to be good at. Very well done, Twitchy._

Shut up.

_… What’s this? Are you actually angry?_

I’ll show you. I’ll show everyone who _fucking_ looks down on me what I can do.  


He quickened his steps, the clicking of his loafers being his only accompaniment in the deafening silence of the corridors.

* * *

  
Just as Tweek was about to turn the handle, the door to the studio creaked open.

"Yes, I’ll go get the— Oh, hi, Tweek!”

“O-Oh, hello, Kyle.”

“Could you come with me? I need help carrying some stuff,”

“Yeah, o-of course!”

“Thank you,” Kyle bobbed his head in appreciation, red curls bouncing with the movement. He strode down the hallway and began leading the way, with Tweek following closely behind. 

“Hey, why’d you leave practice so early on Monday?” Kyle piped up as they reached their destination.

The storeroom door eased open slowly, revealing complete pitch black. The faint stench of mould and the metallic smell of rust creeped into Tweek’s nose as they entered. Kyle fumbled in the dark as he searched for the light switch.

“Uhm, I wasn’t feeling so good.”

A flick was heard and the room was immediately illuminated in white fluorescent light. Music stands were arranged neatly in a corner, and old, broken instruments littered the ground, piling up messily.

“Did it maybe have something to do with Craig?”

Tweek winced as he clumsily knocked over one of the dusty music stands, the sickening crash painfully loud in the stillness of the room.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” Kyle clarified. “It’s just that I saw him bothering you right before you left.” He bent over to help Tweek right the toppled object.

“I… I think he doesn’t like… me?” Tweek replied thickly. It somehow made him feel worse just saying it out loud.

“… And that matters, why? Everyone else in Octavius does.”

The words ran through his brain in a flurry the moment they left Kyle’s mouth. Tweek knew what he was saying was right, but it somehow felt _wrong._ Something in his chest starts to twist and tighten, tongue feeling heavy with the answer it withheld.

“I don’t know,” He murmured.

The quiet that fell after he confessed that was almost deafening.

“… I get it, you know. I know what it’s like,” Kyle spoke finally, his tone suddenly strained. His face still painted its usual smile, but the genuineness of it was fading fast.

“Wanting to be noticed. Just by that one person,” The fingers resting on the stand began tracing against the dust. “You must really look up to him, huh?” The words faltered.

Tweek could swear he saw the redhead’s eyes glisten under the bleak, sterile lights.

He gave a dull nod.

Without another word to each other, they hauled the equipment back to the studio in silence.

* * *

  
It wasn't long before they reached the clubroom, the multitude of voices like a foghorn even through the door.

“Woah, is that really you, Craig?” Clyde’s astonishment was achingly clear.

“Craig, you’re here already?”

“… Yep.”

“Craig coming for practice _twice_ in a week? Wait, is this a dream— _Ow, ow, nope,_ definitely not a dream!”

When the pair walked in, Craig was already in the middle of wrestling Clyde into a headlock.

“Please let me go,” The brunette gasped out, slapping on Craig’s arm around his neck while he struggled. His face was turning red with the effort that he was exerting, breaths coming in short huffs. 

“Hey.” Craig casually acknowledged the both of them, the death grip he had on Clyde seemingly effortless.

Without even blinking, Kyle tilted his head in response, continuing on his mission to lug the stands to their rightful place.

“Now that everyone’s here, we should probably start practice,” Token quipped, not even looking up from his papers.

Witnessing the pure absurdity of this scene was simply too much. Tweek tried his best to suppress it, but a blurted laugh let loose from his lips before he even realised. His reaction was apparently a surprise to Craig, and the hold he had on Clyde promptly loosened. 

Using that opportunity, the brunette wrangled out of his grasp and slumped uselessly to the floor, face red with evident exhaustion.

“It was just a joke!” Clyde rasped. “Thank god for you and your angelic laugh, Tweek. Or I probably would have died,” He winced as he began rubbing at his neck.

Blood immediately rushed to Tweek’s face, and the warmth was practically radiating off his cheeks. _Angelic laugh?_

“Stop being dramatic.” Craig said flatly. He, however, was now peering curiously at Tweek, who took that as a signal to scurry after Kyle, music stands in hand. 

They arranged themselves back in the circle, and just like on Monday, Craig took his spot opposite of Tweek.

Tweek’s palms were starting to sweat, and the ground beneath him was once again rumbling with the threat of giving way. The walls around him were melting into a blur of yellows and whites as his stomach churned with constant waves of nausea.

He closed his eyes in an effort to block it all out, ears ringing with the the smooth cadences of the voices around him.  


_This is your chance to prove yourself._

What am I doing? I shouldn’t have to.

_To show everyone that you can do this. To show Craig you can do this._

I didn’t join the group for that. I joined because…  


When Tweek sang, it felt more like he was mindlessly reading a script, empty words leaving his mouth completely devoid of meaning.

His focus was fading.

* * *

  
Practice had ended before he even realised, but Tweek was left feeling just as lost and new to all of it as before. As everyone began filtering out the studio, he heard Kenny’s voice call out to him. “Tweeks, you coming with?”

“N-No. Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later,” He replied, giving Kenny a weak smile. A hint of a frown glossed over his friend’s face. Reading the room, Kenny gave a nod. “Text me if you need anything, ‘kay?” 

Tweek leaned against the cabinets, elbows resting on its polished surface as he stared listlessly out the windows. By this time, the sun was already setting, and it blanketed the campus in a fiery orange. The trees swayed to the non-distinct spring breeze, leaves basking in the golden glow.

“Your voice. It’s different today.”

Tweek nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around to face the tall, looming figure.

“H-Huh?”

“You sang differently today,” Craig said firmly. “I preferred it the first time.”

“You… preferred it?” Tweek repeated.

“Yes,” Craig was pointedly looking away. “Your voice, it’s… ” He cleared his throat, hands shoved roughly into his blazer jacket. ”You sing… good.”

Tweek blinked at him.

And then it clicked. On Monday. _That’s_ what he wanted to say.

He felt his soul lift.

“… Thank you.” A soft smile grazed Tweek’s lips.

A silence fell between them. Craig slowly shifted his gaze, eyes finally meeting Tweek’s own. The incandescent light of the sunset sky was diffusing through the windows behind Tweek. Orange rays reflected off Craig’s bronzed skin, warming his usually cold, blue stare.  
  
And Craig smiled back.

It was small, and almost unnoticeable. As if it never happened, it quickly settled back into its accustomed straight line. Craig’s cheeks, however, seemed to have subtly taken on a reddish hue, as he abruptly turned his face away. Tweek’s heart felt like it was beating in overdrive.

“I’ll see you on Friday,” Craig grunted out, head nodding stiffly. He pulled on his blue chullo, the yellow puffball on top wiggling with every tug. “And… I hope you feel better then.” With that, he turned and ambled away.

“Y-Yes,” Tweek affirmed shakily. His head was still racing to process what just happened. “I’ll be here!” He called out after him.

With his back still facing Tweek, Craig gave a half-wave, and left the room.

The thoughts in Tweek’s mind spoke up again. For once this time, its tone was quiet and content.  


_He likes your voice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyyy I hope that you enjoyed this one.
> 
> I've been struggling a lot with my style of writing, especially with showing vs telling. If any of you talented writers out there have any tips, I am here ready to be blessed by your infinite knowledge :')
> 
> Craig and Tweek's perspectives and thoughts are vastly different, and it makes it so hard to have the style of their chapters differentiate to fit them. I hope they do!
> 
> I'm going to try to update this story more frequently! I don't really know if the storyline for this fic is going to be that interesting to anyone but I really want to see this one through.
> 
> I really want more fics where Tweek is emotionally strong!!! He can kick anxiety's ass, my ass and especially his own ass
> 
> Also I'd like to know what kind of songs you guys are really into right now :) I'm always looking to expand my music tastes! (I might need some inspiration for songs to write into the fic later cough)


	4. Promises

On Friday, Craig wakes up with more enthusiasm than he's ever had in his life.

He attends class, eyes fixated on the clock from the moment he enters. His gaze burned into its thin, black slowly ticking hands, as if staring at it harder would magically grant him the powers to transcend time itself.

“Mr. Craig Tucker.”

His vocal coach was glaring with utmost contempt. His sharp nose was turned up in a sneer, small black eyes framed with a thin pair of glasses stared him down from the podium. “Are you in a rush to go somewhere? Right after you’ve blessed us with your presence?” The tone was all too snooty and sarcastic for Craig’s comfort. His fingers held back the knee jerk response to flip him off, itching itself on the edge of his desk.

“Not at all, _sir._ ” It came out in a lazy drawl, eye rolling dramatically obvious. His lips twitched in tacit satisfaction when the old man only seemed to get more irritated. The teacher pinched the bridge between his eyebrows, not even bothering to supply him with an appropriate response, before he resumed his endless droning of vocal techniques. 

“With that, you are dismissed. Remember to practise the techniques that we went through today… ”

Craig had already slung his bag over his shoulders the moment the first sentence was announced, long strides headed towards the exit. “Craig, wait up!” His best friend was calling after him right as he pushed open the door. “You going today, too?” A tight nod was given, fingers tapping impatiently on the wooden surface that he was holding.

“Hurry up.”

“Whatcha so damn excited for, geez.” Clyde was moving too painfully slow for Craig’s tastes.

They exit into the school’s courtyard, with Craig’s hurried steps and Clyde lagging behind. The wind that breezed past them carried the scent of damp earth and mown grass, and the air filled with the twittering of birds that nested in the irradiant green trees, broken briefly by the chattering of students that relaxed under their shadows.

“What’s up with you, man? You’ve attended all of Octavius’ meetings for the whole week!” Clyde’s breathing was becoming laboured from all the exertion of trying to keep up.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all!” Clyde said. “I’m actually really happy you’re attending a lot more, dude. Wait… ” His footsteps stopped as his whole body reeled back, causing Craig to stagger behind, unnerved by his friend’s sudden movement.

“No way! Is it because… ?”

For that brief moment Craig’s stomach _churns_ in apprehension, as if worried that Clyde had somehow discovered the true reason for his attendance was so that he could listen to a certain blond sing. Then he was left feeling perplexed as to why that would even _be_ a concern in the first place. 

“That you miss hanging out with me as much as I miss it?”

Craig sighs out the breath of anticipation he was holding.

“Dude, I hang out with you _all_ the time.”

They finally arrive at the studio, and from the split second they enter Craig was already scanning the area like a hawk. He locks on to that particular tuft of yellow, and his legs automatically carry him towards the end goal.

“Hey Tweek.”

“Oh! Hi Craig, h-hey Clyde!”

“You feeling better today?”

“I-I’m ready to show you what I’ve got!” Tweek directed a beaming smile towards him.

“Woah, _woah,_ since when were you guys so chummy?” Clyde eyes the pair suspiciously, lips forming a faint pout. “Are you trying to steal my best friend, Tweek?” _Ever the drama queen._

“N-No! Not at all!” Tweek puts up his hands in denial, appearing alarmed. “Besides, I’m sure you’re irreplaceable in C-Craig’s h-heart,” He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, subtly peeking at Craig for help.

Craig nods, demeanor all serious. “That is definitely true.” His arm reaches up and buries his hand in Clyde’s rough, brown locks, ruffling it way harder than needed.

“I love you, bro.” Clyde whimpered.

“Are you guys bothering my dear, sweet, Tweekers again?” Kenny sidles up intimately close to Tweek’s side, and Craig feels a confusing twinge of irritation at the fact that the usually twitchy blond doesn’t even flinch with the action. Wait, why would he even… ?

His thought process was cut off before it even began by Token announcing the start of practice.

* * *

“Craig.” The blond had tersely addressed him during their break. “I have a favour to ask,” Tweek said, his statement halting and unsure.

“Shoot.”

“Could you… maybe… come to practice more often?”

It wasn’t a request that was new to Craig over the time he’s spent in Octavius. Yet it was coming from Tweek, for which, Craig thinks, must be exceedingly difficult for him to even start a conversation, much less ask for a favour of any kind.

“Why?”

“I feel motivated to perform better when everyone’s around. W-When you’re around. And that helps me,” The blond’s long fingers started picking at his shirt buttons.

“So, I-I guess what I’m saying is, would you help me?” The answer was so earnest that it startled Craig, and he could see the blush creeping full force onto Tweek’s face.

“And you know, the performance is coming up soon, b-but of course, you don’t have to, I know you’re busy and you usually don’t like to attend— ” Tweek rambled on, voice becoming more meek by the second.

“Okay.” Craig interjected, and the blond lets out a visible sigh of relief, shoulders softening into relaxed slopes.

“Promise?” Tweek’s tone was more grave than Craig’s ever heard. His usually gentle features had tightened into a stony-faced look of severity, eyes sparking with lightning intensity.

Staring expectantly at Craig, he stuck out his pinky.

Craig nearly dies from how adorable the whole situation was.

“Promise.” Their fingers curl together in its solemn pact, calloused skin meeting spongy bandages. The action was small, but it felt integrally momentous; a hint to something much more profound than Craig could even begin to process in those few seconds.

Tweek is the one who releases the hold first, leaving Craig to stare at his now barren hands. He clears his throat, withdrawing them casually into his pockets.

“If I’m not here, then it probably means that I’ve been kidnapped. Or murdered,” Craig said. “Give me your phone.”

A simple request, but it took Tweek moments to respond. He dug around in his pockets before presenting Craig with the slim device, unlocked. Craig lifted it off his hands and began tapping on the screen.

“Here’s my number. Call or text me if you think I died,” He handed the phone back to Tweek.

“But if you really _were_ dead or kidnapped, then you wouldn’t even be able reply,” He said, making Craig grin stupidly.

“True. Then do it when I’m not either of those.”

“Yeah, I think I will,” Tweek clutched the phone close to his chest, the colourful charms hanging off it clinking softly. “Thanks, Craig.” With one last parting smile, he steps back to join the rest of the group.

Craig gazed at his hands, now heavy with the weight of the responsibility entrusted upon him.

_A promise, huh? I should probably learn how to help him deal with that issue of his, then._

* * *

  
Valentine's had arrived faster than Craig even realised. In the few weeks leading up to the day, he had attended every single practice religiously as was promised, much to the delight of his closest friends, and, annoyingly, disbelief from everyone else.

The change in his behaviour even warranted a compliment from Stan Marsh himself. “Careful, Tucker,” The customarily stern voice was now actually _cordial_ towards him. “Keep this up, and you might end up actually being likeable in my book.” _Well, sort of a compliment, anyways._

And right now at this minute, he was standing backstage with the said same people, awaiting their turn to perform. Tweek was shaking in the corner, pale face turning positively green from the amount of pure anxiety he must be feeling. Kenny hovered over him, like the overprotective Mama bear he always seemed to transform into whenever Tweek was involved.

“Let’s welcome the ladies you’ve been waiting for, the Sirens!” The announcer’s voice boomed.

From the instant the girls are revealed on stage, wolf whistles and catcalls are immediately thrown out from the audience. They’re all dressed in their uniforms, but Craig’s pretty sure that the lengths of their skirts alone violate all sorts of school rules.

Out steps into the spotlight, _who else_ , but the queen bee herself. Wendy Testaburger, with waist-length sweeping black hair, slender form, and legs that are, as Craig constantly overhears from the loud gossiping of other girls, to _kill_ for. Their murderous intent sure doesn’t lighten up with the fact that she’s constantly on-and-off dating _“The Star of South Pines”_ Stan Marsh. 

_You give me that kind of something_

_Want it all the time, need it everyday_

_On a scale of one to ten I’m at a hundred_

_Never get enough, I can’t stay away_

“ _Woah_ , who is _that?_ ” Craig rolls his eyes. _Not again._ With Clyde, it was a line that he would utter routinely almost every month. He turns his attention to the stage to see which poor girl would be the object of Clyde’s undying affection this time.

_If you want it, I got it, I got it everyday_

_You can get whatever you need from me_

_Stay by your side, I’ll never leave you_

_And I ain’t going nowhere 'cause you’re a keeper_

He spots her beside the dark-haired lead. Tight ringlets of voluminous golden hair that flowed down her shoulders, and a figure that was curvier than Wendy’s. It was someone that Craig’s never seen before, probably the group’s newest member, and she can _sing._ They actually managed to find someone who could hit whistle notes _,_ and not only could she hit them, she sounded _fucking good_ doing it.

Guess Octavius aren’t the only ones that’s found a prodigy this year.

Speaking of which…

“Dude, I think I’m in love,” Clyde says right as Craig turned to leave, his focus now shifting towards the shivering blond.

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

_I love the way_

_Baby, I love the way,_

_The way you love me_

The saccharine sweet voices of the girls drifts into only background noise, as he approaches the corner where Tweek was cowered. Craig could already hear Kenny’s fruitless attempts to comfort his recoiling friend. “Tweeks, it’s going to be fine! You’d do great, really!”

“I-I’m gonna die out there! I c-can’t do this! What was I thinking?!”

Craig gently nudged Kenny aside, kneeling so that he could meet Tweek’s line of sight. He reached out both arms to clasp tightly on the sides of Tweek’s trembling shoulders.

“Tweek.” Craig urged. No response.

“Tweek,” He continues. “Listen to me. You need to breathe. On the count of three.” Craig counts down slowly, and it seems to help, as Tweek’s short huffs of air gradually start to stabilise into deep, steadying breaths.

“You’re doing great. Now, just focus on what I’m saying,” He licks his lips, mouth feeling dry. “You’ve done this for weeks, it’s going to be okay. Just like in practice.”

“I’m here for you. Remember this?” Craig stuck out his pinky.

With a hesitant hand, Tweek reached out to it. Their fingers wrap around each other once more, and the shaking eventually stops. He watches as Tweek finally lifts his head, evergreen eyes now fierce with determination.

“... I can do this.”

Craig could feel Kenny’s stare burning into the back of his neck when he stood up to leave.

* * *

  
When they arrived backstage after their performance, a short, stocky brunette with an expensive looking camera slung over his neck was pestering the now flustered group of girls.

“Look, we already said no, could you, like, stop bothering us?”

“You heard them,” Stan Marsh was walking over, a protective arm moving to wrap around Wendy. “Leave them alone.”

“What’s it to you? Mind your own fuckin’ business.” The brunette spits in reply.

“You fucking deaf or something? They. Said. No.” Craig stalked over, his large silhouette easily overshadowing the figure. 

“Fuck you guys, you all think you’re so hot and popular that you can do whatever the fuck you want,” The person snapped, cursing to himself as he left. Wendy breathed a sigh of relief, the persona of ferocity melting away into her usual, elegant self.

“Thanks guys, he’s been bothering us since pre-show.”

“Who was that, anyway?”

“He claims to be a journalist for the school’s paper. Cartman, or something like that,” Wendy blew a stray hair off her face, arms crossed in irritation. “He kept asking us individually to reveal any dirty secrets we knew of each other, like we’d betray our own.” She huffed. “We confronted him about it and then, that happened.”

“I-I’m so sorry that he bothered you all. Some guys just don't know what, ngh, 'No', means.”

“Ooh! Where’d you find this cutie from? He’s adorable,” One of the girls piped up, now noticing the tiny blond hiding behind Craig only after he spoke.

“Yeah, why not give him to us?” The ladies giggled together at Red’s suggestion, crowding around Tweek. Obviously overwhelmed by the sudden attention, Tweek was flushing pink in the face as the girls fawned over him.

“Like hell we will.” The words left his mouth before he could stop himself.

“It was just a joke, Craig, lighten up a little,” Red remarked, rolling her eyes. “You’re no fun.”

“See you boys at the party!” They waved, tittering off as a group.

Clyde, the whole time, was just gawking at the scene. “Damn it Tweek, how is it that even _you’ve_ got more game than me?!”

* * *

  
The room was thumping with bland, generic pop music, air hot and sticky from the sheer amount of bodies that were in here. Clusters of people mingled over cheap mixers made with low-shelf alcohol, and crushed, empty cans of beer littered the floor. He spots the usual sight of Kenny in the corner, body flushed against somebody else, unknown hands gripping tight in his sandy blond hair. _Typical._

Somewhere in the distance, Craig could hear the cheers of a victory won over a round of beer pong commencing in the back of the dank place. He makes his way back to his friends, casually sliding over makeout sessions and drunk bodies on the floor, ignoring the calls of his name made by random girls in the crowd.

By the time Craig had come back with more drinks for his friends, it was already too late. Clyde was confidently sauntering up to the girls, gait unstable as he stumbled over to his newest target, sloshing alcohol over his sleeves.

“Girl, are you heaven, because it looked like it fell when you hurt— Wait, let me try again, I think I messed that up.” He’s always been a lightweight.

“C’mon, Clyde,” Token said, attempting to save his friend from anymore embarrassment.

“No! Wait! What’s your name?” He cries out in desperation as Token dragged him off by the arm. The curly blonde giggled, a hand waving at him as he was pulled away. “It’s Bebe!” She yelled over the music.

It was a sight that he came to be familiar with that occurred at every party, usually with much worse consequences. All things considered, the ending this time was much better than it customarily was.

Though it must have been hilarious for Tweek watching this go down, as he was giggling out of his mind watching Clyde get man-handled and towed away. Craig couldn’t help but find himself laughing along with the blond, their shoulders touching ever so slightly with every chuckle.

He hands Tweek one of the drinks he brought over once they've calmed down, grins still fresh on their faces. “Hey, you've got some serious stage fright, yeah?”

Tweek hummed in acknowledgement, both hands reaching to accept the beverage.

“Then why in the _fuck_ did you join a performance group?” He was finally asking the question that had plagued his mind since they met. “Is it for the girls? Please tell me you're not like Clyde,” Craig ribbed at him lightheartedly. “One of him is _way_ more than enough.”

Tweek lets out a laugh in that same twinkling way that made his stomach twist the first time, and Craig has to lean his weight against the wall, letting its rough, solid texture ground him.

“You a masochist or something? I saw how you were acting right before the performance.” His fingers curled around the red plastic cup, bringing it in for another taste. “It can't be easy.”

Tweek noticeably winces at the mention of the pre-performance. “About that… Thank you for your help, again. It’s really nice, uhm, knowing I can rely on you.” Craig represses the smile that threatened to emerge, hiding it behind his drink as his heart warmed.

_He relies on me._

“And, no, it's not easy. But I'm here because I want to be.” The plastic of the red solo cup crackled slightly under Tweek's fidgeting fingers.

“I love performing, actually. But some stuff happened that caused me to, uh, not perform anymore.” He takes a tiny sip of his cup. “Plus, it's the only time where I get to be…” Tweek's half mumbled sentence didn’t escape Craig’s notice.

“... Someone else.” Craig finishes for him.

Their gazes meet easily, and Craig’s mind rushes with the urgent need to encapsulate this moment forever in his memory.

“You get it,” Tweek breathed. The colour of his eyes were so incredibly bright even under the dim lighting. A shade of green that reminded him _so much_ of someone else. So much that it physically _hurt._ He empties the rest his cup into his mouth, the bitter liquid burning pleasantly on his tongue.

“I’m gonna go get another drink.”

* * *

  
The rest of the night after that moment was a blur, and then Craig realises that he’s leaning half his weight on a smaller boy, lead-filled legs dragging on their own. His arm was wrapped around the person’s shoulders, and the wafts of clean laundry mixed with the heady scent of alcohol that exuded off the figure was enthralling, almost hallucinogenic. Craig finds that he wants to bury himself in the aroma.

The blonde hair wreathing the form that his numbing body was rested on now seemed longer than before.

“Thanks, Mom.”

He felt his support jiggle beneath him, a lilting giggle filling his empty room, along with the excited squeaking of Stripe. “It's Tweek, Craig.”

“Okay, we're here.” He sunk into the soft cushioning of his mattress, tired limbs sighing in relief. The room was still spinning even though he was laying absolutely still, unable and unwilling to move.

The yellow blur that knelt beside him was now standing up to leave. Panic coursed through his veins like an adrenaline shot. His arm flung out, hand gripping onto a thin wrist.

“Don't go, Mom.” He couldn't get his words to sound right, and it slurred sloppily out his mouth. “Please,” The plead came out more like a pitiful groan. He hated how pathetic he sounded, but at that moment he was willing to do just about anything to get her to stay.

“It’s okay, Craig.” The voice cooed, soft and reassuring. It was more shaky and _male_ than he recalls from the vague memories of his childhood. His hold on the wrist still refused to loosen.

“I'm here, it's okay.”

That was all he heard before the darkness seeped into his consciousness, capturing him entirely in its welcome embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, friends! I hope that you guys thought this was a good one :) Do leave a comment if you did, that'd be the most amazing Christmas gift to me <3 Happy holidays!


	5. sights in neon lights

When Tweek wakes up, he finds himself contorted in the most uncomfortable position on the floor of an unfamiliar room. He peels his wrist carefully off Craig’s loosened grip, arm burning with the ache of every movement. Wincing, he sits himself upright, as realisation punches itself into the bowels of his stomach.

He’s alone. With Craig. In a room. _Craig’s_ room.

The bedsheets behind him start to rustle as the figure on the bed moves.

“Ugh… my fucking head,” Craig’s voice was almost a growl, a sound that made the insides of Tweek do backflips on itself. His movements freeze entirely in place, feeling much like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s trap, and his ears begin to fill with the hammering of his heart.

“… Tweek? Why are you here?”

Craig’s blue eyes were astonishingly lucent even glazed over in the wake of his grogginess. He pushes a large hand through his hair, long fingers gripping onto its strands, some of its onyx waves falling over his eyes. A tongue ran slowly over his chapped lips, leaving an alluring trail of shine where it went.

_Oh, Fuck._

Tweek gulps, the room’s temperature reaching to a point that was way beyond his comfort.

“Uhm, I… I…” He’s falling over his words, and Craig slightly tilts his head, the confusion plain on his face. Then all he could focus on was the Adam’s apple on Craig’s now exposed neck, its constant bobbing fizzing his mind into a blank slate.

_Goddammit, Tweek, use your words!_

“You— You got kind of drunk and I carried you back, and when we— we got here, you r-refused to let me go!”

“I… refused to let you go?”

He nods so hard his head feels like it might fall off, screwing his eyes shut so that he could focus on _not Craig_ , and his cheeks were burning to the point that they lit on fire. “M-My wrists— you— you gripped onto my wrists and told me not to leave!” Tweek half shrieks.

He decides it’s best to hold back on the part where Craig kept mistaking him for someone else.

A pause. “Oh.” He hears a small cough. “... And you had to sleep on the floor ‘cause of that, too.” Oh no, he sounded so _guilty_ that it was almost heart wrenching.

“Fuck, I’m a mess. I’m so sorry, dude. You must feel like shit, not sleeping good and all.”

Tweek bites back the instinctual urge to tell him how much he isn’t worth his apologies.

“I-It’s fine! I don’t really sleep much, so it’s really not a big deal. I used to have to take care of Kenny like this, too,” Tweek was smiling as he said it, but Craig’s usually stoney expression immediately unfurls itself into a frown. _Did I say something wrong?_ He scrambles to his feet, much to the disapproval of his sore limbs. “Here, let me get you some water,” He said, handing him the bottle of the clear liquid that stood on the desk. Their fingers brush in the trade off, and his brain is screaming at him that anymore of this would surely be the immediate cause of acute heart failure.

A squeak in the room breaks him out of the stupor as he is reminded of where he is, a welcome distraction that shifts his currently obsessive focus towards the cage.

“Oh yeah! Your, uhm, your guinea pig. He’s adorable.”

“Yeah, he is. His name is Stripe. I’d die for him,” Craig’s face softens into one that he’s never seen it do before; pure and unfiltered _affection—_ and it makes his insides melt into the floor.

“I-If he’s that important to you, I hope you formally introduce us sometime,” Tweek grimaces in instant regret the moment the words leave his mouth. He pushes a lock of hair behind his ear, in an incredibly false pretense that it wasn’t the one of the most awkward things he’s ever uttered.

Then Craig’s mouth merely falls open, and they find themselves locked in a wordless battle in search for the right thing to say. Tweek is now praying for some sort of deliverance, _anything_ for this moment of discomfort to just _end_ , and his attention flicks to the clock monotonously ticking on the walls.

“Oh god! I’m late for class!” His nerves were all but forgotten as he makes a break for his bag, arms and legs tripping over themselves in the rush. “I’m sorry, I gotta go!”

The door swings open, his feet swimming in the untied laces of his loafers as he speeds out of the room at high velocity.

“Thank you.” He hears Craig say, and the door clicks shut behind him.

Despite the harsh lecturing he got for being late from Ms. Étienne, Tweek’s day couldn't ever be better.

* * *

  
The constant vibration that emitted from his phone was starting to distract Tweek during his daily recital practice. He fishes it out from his pocket, the bright, neon green bars displaying its latest notifications.

_You have (4) new messages._

_Craig — hey thanks again for helping me out that night_

_Craig — im sorry i made u go through that_

_Craig — u free today? like right now_

_Craig — me n the guys are going to hang at Token’s soon. wanna come?_

Last Message Received Today, February 17th, 2:04 p.m.

  
His fingers jitter in their desperate hurry to type out a reply. _Don’t be weird, Don’t sound too eager, oh god—_

_  
Tweek — Yes! :)_

_Craig — great. meet us at the entrance of the cafeteria in 10 mins. see u later_

_Last Message Received Today, February 17th, 2:08 p.m._

  
Tweek arrives at the cafeteria to see Craig and Token already waiting there for him.

“H-Hi guys!”

Craig lazily gives a mock two-finger salute from the wall he's leaning on. “Hey Tweek,” Token said, his signature warm smile ever at the ready.

“Tweek! Glad you could make it!”

From behind, a large arm wraps around Tweek’s shoulders, and his whole body involuntarily flinches at the touch. In a blind panic, he pushes himself hard off the person’s body. “Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you there,” Clyde puts up his hands in mock surrender, eyes wide from surprise at his reaction.

He could physically feel the curious stares from the group that were currently trained on him.

_Shit._

“N-No, it’s not your fault. It’s just uh… a bad habit,” Yeah, good one Tweek. A _Habit._

“Clyde, stop putting your hands on people without warning,” Token breaks the tense air. “It’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”

“Aw c’mon, Token, stop acting like such a hardass. We all know you ain’t usually like that,” Clyde nudges the now flustered Token who had stiffened considerably at his remark. “Besides, Tweek’s a bro! Right, Tweek?”

“Uhm… Yeah, i-it’s okay. It’s… “

“Bad, Clyde.” Craig easily wraps Clyde into a headlock, grinding his knuckles into his scalp.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry Tweek, I promise I’ll be good,” Clyde whimpers, squinting in pain. “Please! Make him stop!”

“Craig, it’s okay! Really!”

“Fine.” Craig reluctantly lets him go, and the brunette stumbles to right himself.

They turn to stroll down the corridors, with Craig and Clyde lagging behind due to their intermittent moments of roughhousing and playground insults being thrown at each other.

“W-Where’s Jimmy?” Tweek pipes up above their noise.

“We’ve got the national school competition coming up in sometime later in the year,” Token replies. “He’s busy coming up with our next assemble.”

“Uhm, isn’t it still a little too early for that?”

“He likes to prepare multiple ones before deciding on the best. It takes time,” Token hums. “A lot of it.”

“Jimmy’s really talented, and, ngh, he works so hard for us,” Tweek recalls the countless number of times he stayed back long into the late evenings to help the members with their parts. “I’m glad he’s on our side.”

Upon hearing him say that, Token smiled fondly at Tweek. “Me too. I’m happy you appreciate him as much as we do.”

They stop at one of the doors in the hallway, Token reaching for one of the many keys that he had set on his heavy keyring. “Welcome to my humble abode,” Token mimics an elaborate bow as he holds the door open.

Tweek’s watches in awestruck silence, as one of his childhood dream materialises right before his very eyes. There were shelvings filled with game systems of every generation, from ancient Atari’s to the latest Playstation. A cabinet neatly stocked full of disc cases stood beside the wide, curved TV screen that rested on its console.

“Holy crap, how many consoles have you got in here?!” He exclaims, rushing to examine each corner of Token’s collection. Every item has been immaculately kept and dusted, not a sign of yellowing despite the ages of some of them. He drags his eyes across the vast collection of game titles were shelved faultlessly in alphabetical order, a range of old-school RPGs up to the newest shooters. 

“They’re much more fun to play on than to stare at,” The amusement was clear in Token's voice. “Split into teams?”

“I get Tweek.” Craig plucks one of the games off the shelves, settling in front of the TV screen, while Clyde plops down on one of the beanbag chairs. 

“What?! But I wanted to team with Tweek!”

“Too late.”

“Fine! We’re gonna trash you anyways, right, Token?”

“Don’t drag me into this damn rivalry of yours, I’m just here to have fun.”

“Yeah, Clyde. Stop being such a try-hard.”

“Who you callin’ a try-hard?!”

“Uhm, a-are they always like this?”

“Since the dawn of time.”

The title loads up on the screen, and Tweek instantly recognises the tune that plays. “Hold up, we’re playing ‘Smash?” He couldn’t hold back the huge smile that etched his lips.

“Yeah, dude. C’mon, let’s own these scrubs,” Craig tosses him the controller, and Tweek effortlessly catches it, the weight and shape a familiar source of comfort in his hands.

It wasn’t before long that Tweek absolutely trashes everyone at the game, the skill gap between them painfully obvious.

“Yes! Win!” Tweek thrusts a hand in the air, triumphant with victory.

“Damn Tweek, you’re good at this.” Craig snorts, throwing his controller off to the side.

“Yeah, I u-used to play a lot as a kid.”

_Afternoons in the summer spent by himself in the darkness of his room, the constant clicking from rapid mashing of buttons, and the only light source being the tiny screen in front of him, laughter filtering in from the streets through the windows of his empty house, while he’s alone, so, so alone—_

He shakes himself out of the memory. “I-It’s one of the few things that I’m okay at.”

“What? But you’re good at so many things! Like being adorable, piano, singing… ” Clyde starts to number them off his fingers. _Uhm, hold on, one of those things is not like the others._

“N-Not really, I mean, especially in Octavius, I’m not as talented as everyone else,” Tweek laughs flatly. “That’s why I work extra hard, I have to play catch up… ”

Clyde just stares wide-eyed at him. “What are you even talking about? You’re amazing— ”

“You know that the Valentine’s performance wasn’t just some stupid love show for the school, right?” Craig interrupts, voice as even as ever.

“H-Huh? What do you mean?”

“It’s the way the acapella groups get to show off their best talents for the year,” Token explains. “There are people out there watching us, and it's a chance to show them what we can do.”

Craig finally tears his gaze away from the screen.

“You’re capable of more than you think.”

Without another sound, he reaches for the previously discarded controller and starts up another match.

Tweek couldn’t form enough words in his entire lifetime to express how much that one sentence mattered to him, and how much he wished for it to be even remotely true.

* * *

  
“Tweek, you free on Spring break?”

They were seated in the booth of a diner, the neon colours of blue and pink reflect off the windows, street lights forming rows of warm orange globules in the starless night sky.

“We haven’t announced it yet at our meetings this year, but Octavius takes an annual trip down to this place by the lake that my family owns.”

‘Poised’ and ‘Primp’ were words Tweek would have usually associated with Token just this morning, but not anymore. It was like he had transformed into a completely different person; with his loose tie, partly unbuttoned shirt, and slacked posture— it was all so relaxed and comfortable. If Tweek didn’t know any better, he’d be almost unrecognisable.

“Wanna come with?” Token continues in between massive mouthfuls of his sandwich. 

“Bro, you’re totally underselling it.” Clyde shovels a handful of fries into his mouth. “Tweek, you’ve gotta come! The place is _super_ cool,”

 _A trip? Like a… camping trip?_ Tweek’s never been on a trip with _anyone_ , not even his own family.

Clyde must have somehow sensed Tweek's hesitation, and he leaned across the table, the juices of his burger leaving dark, messy stains all across its wooden surface. “Everyone’s going! You’ve got to come along too!” He’s so loud that he’s practically shouting, the noise attracting stares from the surrounding tables.

“Dude, give the guy some breathing room, he hasn’t even said anything yet.” Craig places a hand on Clyde's chest and pushes him firmly back down onto his seat. “It _would_ be nice if you did come along, though,” He pointedly emphasised, eyes casually resting on Tweek.

Craig fiddles with the ears on his hat, before he goes back to leaning his head against the windows, the cacophony of colours from the street lights painting his face into a weave of what Tweek could only describe as _Beautiful._

It’s as if he doesn’t realise how exquisite he looks right at this moment, like the finest piece of art that Tweek had ever set eyes on, and would never get tired of, where he could spend years and _years_ just admiring the way the flamingo pink softened the bronze in his skin, the vibrant aquatic blue highlighting the steel in his eyes, the warm oranges—

“‘Yo, Earth to Tweek?” Token’s snapping fingers intruded on his view. 

“O-Oh, right! Uhm. Yes. Of course. Sure, I’ll come,” Tweek shoves a giant piece of his waffle down his throat to stop himself from talking.

Craig cocks an eyebrow.

“For such a small guy, you sure can fit a lot in your mouth,” He smirks, making Tweek choke mid-bite. Token immediately doubles over, his cutlery clanging off his plate as he rolled around in his seat clutching his sides.

“That’s what she said!”

“That doesn’t even make sense, dude.”

“Nuh-uh! It so does! Look, even Token thinks I’m right, he’s laughing at my joke!”

“Don’t talk to me, just _shut the hell up_ , I’m _literally_ going to die laughing if you guys don’t shut up right now—”

Tweek’s initial shock fades, and he eventually joins in the chorus of laughter, his giggles lost to the commotion. They continue to make a racket in their tiny booth, sharing stories, ranting about teachers, vent-sessions on their coursework, all in that dingy diner off the corner of the street.

It’s one of the best nights he’s ever had in the eighteen years of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter updates might be shorter or take longer from now on, as my mom has recently been hospitalised with a serious illness, and I've been spending most of my free time taking care of her needs. I still intend on seeing this story through. 
> 
> Writing this fic in my downtime is the only thing that's keeping me sane and happy right now, and I'm so eternally grateful for all of you readers out there. Thank you guys for everything, sincerely. :) I love you all.


	6. in the embers that burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE 12/01: Im really sorry, but I won't be updating for this week! It's way too rushed of a deadline and Id rather post a chapter that I can be proud of instead of one that's on time... I'm sorry guys .....

A perpetual stinging sensation pierces Craig’s eyes whenever he attempts at opening them, smoke swallowing his surrounding vision. All around him reeked of burnt rubber and searing metal, a scent so tangible that it left an awful bitterness on his tongue. He could feel the oxygen rapidly depleting from his lungs, visibly dissipating into clouds of carbon dioxide that were filling up his atmosphere.

“Mom?” He’s constantly choking every time he attempts to breathe.

“Craig, it’s okay.” She sounds reassuring, but the voice is breathy and weak in all the wrong ways, like the sound was coming out from not just one, but several holes in her body.

“I’m here, it’s okay.” He starts to smell the heavy stench of iron. It makes his stomach want to revolt in nausea and disgust.

“I love you. Remember that.” Her breaths were coming in shallow gasps, and he knows it won’t be long now. “I love you so much, Craig.”

The tears flow down his face, unstoppable and scorchingly hot, when he shoots awake clenching the sheets drenched in his sweat. The vividly recurring dream of that increasingly distant memory always ends there. Right before he gets to say it back.

“I love you too, Mom.” He whispers back, every time, into the loneliness of the night.

He never could fall back asleep after, instead spending these hours in the company of burning cigarette buds and the endless slivering of smoke, meandering and twisting in the shadows amongst the glow of fire and stars. He smokes until his lungs burn, until they choke and plead and _beg_ for the sweet relief of fresh air, until he feels he’s been punished enough.

But it’s never enough. It’s never, _never_ enough. 

The sun creeps onto the horizon by the time Craig runs out of cigarettes. He remains leaned against the same surface, basking in the warmth that it brings every single time. It washes over him in a cleansing ritual, rays highlighting angry red marks that the hot ash leaves on his knuckles and the spaces between his fingers. He’s stood here in this spot so often he’s sure that by now the sun has seared the silhouette of his shadow into the ivy-covered walls.

He always waits until the sun fully rises into morning before he finally makes his way back into his room, one that was no longer shrouded in the pitch black of nightfall.

* * *

“‘Sup Craig, ‘ya ready for the big trip?” Token beams widely at him from across the field, a huge backpack lugged over his shoulders.

“Yep. G’morning.”

“Tweek! Over here!” Clyde waves his arms widely over his head, before leaving to help Token load their bags into the bus.

“Hey, Craig.” He almost smiles at the sight of Tweek, before noting with chest-tightening annoyance that Kenny’s tagging slyly close behind the blond.

“... You’re bringing Stripe?”

Craig looks down at the cage under his arm. Despite all the movement, Stripe was still fast asleep, curled up tight in his tiny little home.

“Yeah. No one else can take care of him.”

“Uhm, Craig? Did you have a bad night?”

“Hm?”

“I-I didn’t mean to annoy you, it’s just that I can, uh, sort of tell.”

“Nah, that’s just Tucker’s usual face. He just hates everything,” Kenny smirks, his hands resting on the back of his head.

Craig chooses not to reply. He’s definitely _not_ looking forward to spending close to a whole week under the same roof as fucking Kenny McCormick.

“What’s up, Tucker? No insults today? Not even your usual ‘Fuck off, McCormick?”

He grits his teeth. _Don’t do it, he’s just pushing your buttons, he wants that reaction from you._

“Wow Tucker, you’ve really gone soft, huh?” Kenny whistles. “Or has all that constant smoking and drinking finally numbed your brain enough that you really don’t care for real anymore?”

“You’re one to fucking talk, you—" His free hand curls into a hard fist, arm itching to ready itself into a punch.

“Kenny! Stop being such an asshole!” Tweek cuts in fiercely, and from his expression it’s obvious Kenny’s never heard the boy react that way to him before. It immediately silences him, and Craig isn’t sure whether it’s due to pure shock, or just respect for his friend’s wishes.

“Whatever.” He saunters off into the crowd without so much as even a glance in Craig’s direction.

“I’m sorry, Craig. It’s just Kenny’s way of being… funny, but sometimes he crosses the line without meaning to,” Tweek rubs his arm absentmindedly. _Being funny is a real nice way to put it._ “Agh, do— do you think I was too harsh?”

“No. He deserved it,” _I almost fucking beat him into the ground if you didn't say anything there._

“Thank you for standing up for me.” 

“You’re welcome. It’s, uh, no big deal, since I’m pretty sure you could have done that yourself,” Tweek said, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. “I know that it’s not much, but i-if you ever need a listening ear, I’m here.”

Craig’s fingers reach up to tug at his hat. “That means a lot,” The rough texture of the fabric stinged slightly when he rubbed them in between his burnt fingers. “I appreciate it.”

Tweek replies with an adorably soft smile, and Craig doesn’t understand why somebody like him would be so close to a guy like Kenny. He _can’t_ understand. They were like complete opposites; one an innocent, kind, sweet ball of sunshine, and the other a shit-talking dumpster fire that’s way too cocky and devious for his own good, his brain always working to concoct some impish plan or another.

It’s something he’d have to ask Tweek at a later time, and he shelves the thought into the far back of his mind.

_But did he just think that Tweek was adorable?_

“You, uh, look great, by the way. I like your jacket,” Tweek shyly states, looking at the ground as he shuffles his feet. “Blue’s my favourite colour.” The surprise compliment instantly diminishes any leftover feelings of anger, and Craig finally takes the time to completely appreciate Tweek’s outfit.

And it makes him feel terribly underdressed.

He sports a white baseball cap, his blond hair pulled away from his face, emphasising the slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. The dark green of his windbreaker really brought out the translucency of his pale skin, paired with a white oversized crew neck shirt showing the dips and curves of his collarbones, all tucked loosely into black skinny jeans and well-worn laced up combat boots.

Craig finds he can’t tear his eyes away from his exposed clavicles, the skin there so smooth and unblemished, and he vaguely wonders if the rest of his body was just as flawless. He mentally slaps himself.

_Yup. A perfectly normal thing to think about a friend. A good friend, who’s a guy. Totally._

“I’m sorry, that was a w-weird thing to say, huh?” Tweek’s hand goes up to rub at the spot that he’s been staring at. Craig’s accidentally made him feel self-conscious again, probably. He shakes his head dumbly, his brain racing to think of something to say. “No, you look... good, too.” _Why is it I can never seem to compliment him with words other than “good”?!_

Although it was probably the second lamest attempt at flattery that Craig’s ever given, Tweek still seems to blush increasingly crimson when he grins up at him. It’s so cute how easily embarrassed he gets at even the slightest thing.

_Get a fucking grip, stop thinking about how adorable your friend is even though he really is the cutest person you’ve ever met all the twenty years of your goddamned life—_

“... Craig? Craig! Clyde’s calling for us, come on!” Tweek’s already halfway across to the bus when he shouts for him.

He already knows what he has to do. Craig takes long strides in his effort to catch up, fast enough to snatch a seat in the bus beside the blond before Kenny could even react, which earns him the most scathing look that he’s ever received.

He smiles to himself in implicit satisfaction when the bus begins to pull off the driveway, and Tweek starts animatedly pointing out the blurs in their surroundings, laughing softly along to their intimately quiet conversation, his delicate voice and Stripe’s tiny squeaks turning the noisy chatterings of the bus into a mere afterthought.

He feels Kenny’s fiery glare burning into the back of his head the whole ride.

_Revenge is sweet._

* * *

The bus arrives at the lodge; well, it’s less of a lodge and more like a _mansion_ , guarded by raised cobblestone walls and fringed with black, wrought iron fencing, and a gold-plated sign that proudly writes “Dark Meadows” in bold. It’s built beside a large lake, pristine and undisturbed, surrounded by the lush greens of acres on acres of foresting.

“Uhm… Wait, we’re here? It’s here?” He hears Tweek burble while they wait for the guards to open up the gates in the driveway. “I knew Token’s family was rich, but not _that_ rich.”

“You’d be surprised, then,” Craig leans back on his seat as he stretched his arms over his head. “This is just one of their many properties.” Tweek’s eyes widen, before his stare gradually turns distant.

“... It must be hard on Token.”

That’s new. Craig’s never heard anyone say that in response to Token’s wealth before.

“Why do you say that?”

“Uh, it just seems like he has a lot of expectations to live up to, and it must be a lot of pressure on him,” Tweek smiles sadly, pulling off his hat to mess with the curls in his fringe. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t ever get too comfortable around people.” Craig feels his heart catch in surprise. He never took Tweek to be someone so observant.

“Don’t worry too much about him,” He mindlessly reaches up to smooth a hand into Tweek’s wild hair. It’s so much softer than he expected it to be, and it momentarily derails his train of thought. “... He’s got us, right?” Craig reluctantly retracts his touch away from cotton-like surface.

“R-Right! Though I’m not sure what I can offer up to him,” Tweek readjusts himself and firmly pulls his cap back onto his head. “I’ll try my best to make sure he’s relaxed and happy when he’s spending time with us!” He beams at Craig, and goes back to admiring the view, acting like what he just said wasn’t one of the purest things Craig’s ever heard in his entire life

Craig buries his face in his hands, the warmth of his cheeks flooding into the numbing tips of his cold fingers.

_He’s too good for this world._

The bus pulls up to the front of the large mansion, and they all begin to file out of the vehicle. “Tweeks! Did you miss me? What did Tucker do to you while I was gone?” From behind, Kenny’s wrapping his arms around Tweek’s neck, leaning his head on the smaller blond’s shoulders. Craig notes that Tweek doesn’t even flinch at the sudden touch, unlike how huge of a reaction he had with Clyde.

He wonders how Tweek would respond if it was him who tried to do something like that, too.

“Do… to me? I’m fine, Kenny! The bus ride was only like, a couple of hours. We just talked,” Tweek casually throws a smile at Craig, and his chest vaguely begins to stir. Kenny’s glare, however, was still searing itself like a brand into Craig. “Sure seemed like a nice _chat._ ” Bitterness is unmistakably seeping into Kenny's usually honeyed words.

“Uhm… You okay, Kenny?”

“Yeah, of course! C’mon, let’s go in.”

Tweek’s now being towed off by the arm, and he lets his steps drag out behind him as he turns to give Craig an apologetic wave and a confused shrug. “I-I’ll see you later!” He shouts, before he’s tugged forcefully through the front doors of the mansion.

_What the fuck was that about?_

* * *

They gather in the living room, forming a loose circle; _Seriously, what’s with Octavius and gathering in fucking circles?_ Token’s taking stand in the middle of it, armed with a cardboard box.

“Alright, guys. I’m going to be tossing out the keys to your rooms at random. Your roommate would have the same colour tag on their key, so sort it out amongst yourselves.” Craig dreaded this part. The trip was supposed to be a bonding trip, so it made sense to not be able to choose who you roomed with. It didn't make it suck any less, though. 

“Except _you,_ Kenny. After what happened last year, you’re getting your own room.”

Ah, yes. Who could forget _The Incident._

“It's you guys' loss,” Kenny winks. “You all know where to find me, anyway,” A smug smirk curled his lips, and it makes Craig frown in disapproval and faint disgust. 

“... Anyway. The girls would be arriving sometime in the week. The boys get the rooms in the west wing, and the ladies stay in the east.” Without looking in the box, Token’s grabbing and throwing the keys around the circle in sequential order.

Craig grabs his fluidly out of the air, opening his hand to reveal a red tag attached to the golden key. He searches the room, before watching Tweek fumble with his catch. His gut twists when Tweek makes eye contact, pink-flushed and beaming while he waves something at him. It glints in the sunlight— gold, small, and most importantly…

A red tag.

At the edges of his vision, he catches a glimpse of Kenny directing a look at him; Not one of jealousy, but rather akin to _pure hatred._

Guess this trip wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

* * *

The room is so much more like a suite, furnished with two, large beds, opposing each other, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows that lines one side of its walls to provide its guests with an undisturbed view of the lake and forests. He observes Tweek's movements, watching him unpack his large bag that was filled to the brim with provisions you might need for any situation you could ever think of; Compasses, maps, flashlights, a rainbow assortment of sweaters, battery packs— Someone was obviously a little too anxious about this trip. 

“Tweek. You going anywhere?”

“Uhm, not for now.”

“Wanna hang out in the room for a bit?

“J-Just you and me… ?”

“…Yeah? You wanted to meet Stripe, right?”

“Is that o-okay?”

“Dude, we’re sharing the same room. And I’m the one who’s suggesting it, of course it’s okay.” Craig gestures for Tweek to come towards the cage. “C’mon.”

Tweek approaches warily, as if what it contained was a ferocious lion rather than an adorably pocket-sized guinea pig. Stripe was considerably smaller compared to the rest of his breed, too, but it just made the whole thing that much cuter.

“W-What do I do?”

Craig reaches into the cage with one hand, scooping out the wheeking ball of fluff.

“Want to hold him?”

“Agh— No?! What if I drop him?!”

“You won’t. Just calm down. Here, cup your hands together.”

Tweek reluctantly follows his instructions, and Craig plops Stripe into his open palm. They watch as Stripe wriggles his nose, curious of his entirely new surroundings, before he starts burrowing himself into Tweek’s jacket sleeves. The blond’s nervous twitching ceased at once, and was now frozen statuesque while all this was happening, obviously afraid of moving in case he hurt the tiny little thing.

A few seconds of rustling pass, before only the head of Stripe pops back out, purring contentedly at the discovery of his new hidey-hole.

“…Oh my god. He’s so freaking adorable. And soft.”

“He likes you,” Craig grins. His feelings are oddly in disarray upon witnessing this scene of straight _perfection._ “I’ve never seen him take to someone so quickly before.” He admits, savouring the relaxed disposition that came so rarely with Tweek.

_Like owner, like pet, I guess._

By the time they were done playing with Stripe, the sun had set into dusk. They’d excused themselves from dinner, though promised at the behest of a loudly protesting Clyde that they’d join for the activities after, just so they could spend it feeding Stripe instead. They fuss over him until Stripe falls back into sleep (where Tweek learns that guinea pigs actually sleep with their eyes open, after screaming at Craig that he’d accidentally murdered his best friend), and sat together on Craig’s bed, a comfortable silence calmly sinking itself over the pair.

In the darkness of the room, Craig stares out the large windows, the vast twinkling of millions of stars formidably visible this far out from the city. The light radiating off the full moon paints the midnight velvet pathways, drawn only by the white speckles that dot the endlessly navy blue landscape. He admires the view, and remembers why all the bullshit that it takes to come here again was worth it. Of course, there was another reason why he did it again this year, too.

He subtly tilts his head to face Tweek, who holds the same look of reverence when he examines the sparkling backdrop. The reflection of the moon illuminates his pearlescent skin, green eyes igniting in almost amber with the heavy mass of stars it tries to carry within itself. His hair is slightly mussed, the threads of leftover sunshine framing the soft cheekbones on his face. 

But Craig's favourite part, was the feather light dusting of freckles that fall over his nose, forming undiscovered constellations that he finds he wants to _explore,_ to trace their distinct patterns and orbits with his fingertips.

Okay, seriously, what the _actual fuck_ is wrong with him today.

“... The universe, it’s so big.” He’s never heard this voice so at ease. “It makes me feel so small, like all the things that happen to me are so… irrelevant.”

“That’s why I like it.” Craig admits. “It’s comforting, in a way.”

“Hey, Craig?”

“Yep.”

“Do you ever find yourself wondering about what could have been?”

He takes a moment to let the question sink in. “Yeah, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid,” He vaguely waves a hand over himself. “And, here I am now.”

“An astronaut? Really?” Tweek’s eyebrows are so raised they disappeared into his fringe. “Well… I guess you certainly got the height for it,” The blond smiles.

“Got all I need right here. I’d have been _amazing_. If only I wasn’t so shit at Math,” They both start laughing.

“What about you?”

“... What about me?”

“What did you want to be as a kid?”

“Oh! …Uh, this is probably going to sound stupid,” Tweek winces. “But… I really wanted to be on Broadway.” At that, Craig couldn’t help but let out a snicker. “Asshole,” Tweek says with a grin, and Craig easily deflects the pillow he throws at him.

“I still can’t believe it. You were a theatre kid? Then, why piano?”

“It was something I picked up _for_ theatre. I wasn’t the best actor, so I had to join through other means. Turns out, I was actually really good at it. Piano, I mean.”

“ _Broadway,_ though? You can barely function on stage during practices with like, _zero_ audience.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I got the anxiety, smartass.”

Snorting, he expertly dodges another cushioned attack. Just where was Tweek getting all these damn pillows from? Although, he has to admit to himself, he’d willingly suffer through a barrage of pillows any day if it meant that he could see Tweek being like this more often.

“Though I’ve always wondered if it all would have been different,” Tweek continues. “… If certain things in my life hadn’t happened, would I still be here?”

Craig would be lying if he said he’s never felt the same way. If only…

“This might sound kind of weird, but sometimes, I’m kind of glad that they did.”

He shoots him a questioning look, and that was the only prompt that Tweek needed.

“I’m so grateful for everything, even if life didn’t turn out the way I’d planned it to be. Cause if it did, I might not have met you— Uhm, you guys. E-Everyone.”

Now he understands. It makes him think back to everything that’s happened to him since _The Ordeal;_ The people he’d met, the things he’d learned, the opportunities he’d been given. And he also remembers the loneliness, the _pain,_ _the emptiness._

At first, he’d thought, that if given the chance, he’d gladly reverse time— to make things _right._ But now…

 _Yes, take it all._ Craig reaffirms to himself. _It should have been me._

Yet it still felt pivotal to his existence to hear the blond bare his thoughts to him like that. Even though Craig is older, it’s clear that Tweek’s far more mature than he was, and knowing that felt like no matter what, Tweek wouldn’t judge him for anything just on the surface, like he _understood._

They remained splayed across from each other on the bed, and Craig can’t remember the last time he’s ever felt so himself.

An idea pops into his mind, and Craig grabs the guitar resting at the foot of his bed, settling himself onto the edges of it. He clears his throat, using the most serious tone he could muster. “I’ve got a cheesy pop song here that I would like to dedicate to the one and only, Tweek Tweak.” He cups his hands around his mouth and poorly imitates the roar of a crowd, and he’s rewarded with a tiny giggle from the blond. Grinning, he starts to pluck on the chords, the vibration of strings leaving a pleasant hum on his fingertips 

_Tell me somethin', boy,_

_Are you happy in this modern world?_

_Or do you need more?_

_Is there somethin' else you're searchin' for?_

They sit there together in the darkness, figures cloaked in the safety of the night. He smiles at Tweek who seems to be looking straight at him, and even in the dark Craig feels his soul itself being scrutinised under his intense, green gaze. But at the same time, it was like Tweek’s very essence was lost far away in the back of his own mind.

_I'm fallin’,_

_In all the good times I find myself longin’, for change,_

_And in the bad times I fear myself,_

Tweek shifts closer next to him, and their sides brush when the mattress creaks and dips slightly with their combined weight. Craig feels the rest of the world melt away into nothing at the minuscule touch, and he marvels at the sensation that overtakes his whole self when he hears Tweek’s voice cut in; bright, fragile, _breathtaking_ — a solo performance that was meant only for him, and him alone.

_Tell me something, boy._

_Aren't you tired, trying to fill that void?_

_Or do you need more?_

_Ain't it hard, keeping it so hardcore?_

The blond gives Craig a playful jab as he sings that last line, making him laugh deep in his chest. His voice coalesces into one that draws a sort of profound sadness when he continues, the lines on his face smoothening into silken plains.

_I'm falling._

_In all the good times, I find myself longing, for change._

_And in the bad times, I fear myself._

He could see that something deep inside Tweek is taking over once again, his usually breathy tone now steady and unwavering, driven with raw emotion, an unseen force that crashes a _particularly_ strange feeling into Craig in waves, and waves.

_I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in,_

_I'll never meet the ground._

_Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us._

_We're far from the shallow now._

He loved it when the blond was like this, the chains of anxiety that usually bind him tight unravelling fast upon itself— when he becomes free and unabashedly _Tweek,_ a spectacle that never fails to amaze and enrapture every fibre of his being.

_In the shallow, shallow_

_We're far from the shallow now_

They’re now staring right at each other, sharing content smiles lit only by the luminescence of the moon. Their voices fuse into an exquisite harmony when they sing together, unison words and deeply contrasting sounds dancing in an almost practised tango.

A perfect bubble in the vast space of the universe, in which only the two of them, and this memory that they were intimately sharing in the seclusion of darkness and starlight, coexisted.

Craig never wants it to ever end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, the gay author of this very gay fic, writing the kinda gay end scene of this pretty gay chapter: ha, thats GAYYYYY just kiss already assholes........
> 
> also i'm sorry for this being late. I'll be going away overseas for a week soon, and I hope that I can get the next part out before I leave :) 
> 
> hope you enjoyed this one, my dudes.


	7. allow me to believe just this once

Craig’s been frowning since he came down for breakfast this morning.

He’s glaring daggers into his bowl of cereal, as if it’s currently whispering at him viciously crafted insults about anything and everything he cares about. Tweek’s pretty sure that if he holds that expression any longer, the deep lines on his face would permanently depress into his features. Jimmy, Clyde and Token who are sitting with him have obviously been relentlessly trying to improve his mood. He watches as the group, almost comically, loudly (and sometimes, even physically) try to drag him into their ongoing conversation, much to the increasingly sour expression on Craig.

His mind races in thinking back to the night before, if he had said or done anything strange that would annoy— No, scratch that; That would make Craig _hate_ him. Was it the singing? Oh no, he thought that moment was _weird,_ didn’t he. Did he accidentally hurt Stripe? He _did_ stupidly yell at Craig that he’d accidentally killed him. _That_ was fucking embarrassing. Or was it the part where he’d laughed at the fact that he sucked at Math—

From the other table, Craig lifts his head from his bowl, and his stare is now intent on Tweek. The constantly shaking spoon of cereal that was making its way to his mouth halts fast in its tracks, and his brain immediately goes numb.

In a moment of dumb, panicked choices, he pushes out a painfully forced smile.

Without even a hint of amusement, Craig raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, before going back to moping over his breakfast. Tweek inwardly groans at himself.

_Yup, it was definitely the Math._

“Hey.”

“Agh—! Uh, Hello?”

“Hi,” The boy laughs out. His amber eyes crinkle when he grins, a mop of brown curls fringing over his forehead when he tilts down to look at Tweek.

“I’m Michael. Michael Prescott. You’re Tweek, right?”

Tweek stares blankly at the brunette’s stuck out hand. “Uhm… Yeah?” He cautiously inches out his own, and Michael happily clasps it into an enthusiastic handshake.

“It’s nice to formally meet you! You did great on Valentine’s. People were talking about it for _days_ after.”

Tweek’s a little overwhelmed by the amount of praise and energy that this stranger— _Michael—_ is throwing at him this early in the morning, which is, in his opinion, way too damn much.

“I’m quite shy to admit, but after your amazing performance, I’ve become a real admirer of yours.” He chuckles.

Tweek can’t stop the unwanted rush of heat that’s reddening his face in betrayal. _Stupid fucking social anxiety._ “Oh, uh, Thank— Thanks! It’s… Nice, to, uhm, meet you too.”

“No problem! Actually, if you’re free tonight, we should hang out.”

“‘Sup, Prescott.”

“Oh, hello. Did you need something, McCormick?”

“You tell me. You’re the one that’s standing here at _my_ table,” Kenny sets down his plate of food that’s stacked up so high it’s threatening to spill from all sides. Tweek quietly observes the sneer of contempt Michael shoots at his friend, that’s served with just a dash of condescension. Kenny pulls out his chair, settling himself comfortably into his seat. “Besides, what would a guy like me want from a guy like you, anyway? Other than all your money and social status, of course.”

Ah. So he’s one of _those_ kinds of people.

“I’ll see you around soon, Tweek. It was nice meeting you.” Michael gives him a simpering smile, not even bothering to give Kenny a second glance before he walked away.

_That was weird._

Tweek turns back to Kenny, but all he can see is the orange on the arms of his worn-out parka, his entire face and background completely obscured by the mountainous terrain of food.

“Are you sure you can finish all of that, man?”

“Hey, man. It’s _free._ Also, Michael was totally flirting with you. _”_

“Wha— huh?”

A hand goes up to reach for the scone perched precariously over the tower of syruped pancakes and waffles. The glistening pastry lifts off the pile, and behind it Tweek catches a glimpse of an extremely grumpy Craig, the intensity of his glowering now increased tenfold.

“Do you think that Craig’s pissed at me? He’s… He looks mad.”

“Nah.” Kenny doesn’t even turn to look. “What, did something happen between you guys?”

“Sort of? I’m not sure.”

“Does it matter that much? Tucker’s just being Tucker.”

“Yes, of course it does! Craig is— ” _Ah, fuck._ Tweek bites his tongue.

“... Is, what, exactly?”

“Actually, nevermind.”

“Nope, you ain’t backing out of this now. Tell me.”

“You won’t tell him, right?”

“Of course not!”

“It’s just, Craig is… you _promise_ not to tell him?”

“ _So_ , about Craig.”

Tweek hesitates. Even he, _himself,_ doesn’t really know what exactly it is about Craig.

… But if Tweek were to describe him, it would be as a _Juxtaposition._ Someone who seems aloof and apathetic, but has a soft, affectionate side— one that he reserves for only a select few. Off stage, a person who commands no notice; whose only want is to blend in with the surrounding crowd. And when on stage, a force to be reckoned with. The energy he emits is pure _electricity,_ an aura that effortlessly draws you in. Sailors, to a siren’s song.

Resisting the urge to spill _all_ of that to Kenny, he forces himself to speak.

“It’s just that, I kind of… admire him? He’s so amazing, and talented that — that he makes me _want_ to perform again.”

He knows Kenny’s the only person in the world who would realise the sheer gravity behind those words. From his reaction, it appears that he does. Orange arms pause mid-bite of his scone, an arising tension filling the space between them.

Admitting to it, though, is honestly a breath of relief; A thought that comes so naturally, like the constant sighing of waves on a beach.

“And even when he’s on stage, it’s like he doesn’t even care about what anyone thinks about him,” _Unlike me._ “He inspires me. To do better. To _be better,_ ” Tweek buries his face into his hands, cringing at his own speech. “God, that was a weird thing to say, huh?”

Kenny doesn’t say a word. Instead, he lifts up his phone, tapping on the screen. _“He inspires me,”_ Tweek hears his own voice playing back to him.

“ _Kenny, Oh my god!_ Delete that right now!”

He simply shoves his phone back into his pockets. “I’m glad that you want to perform again.” He doesn’t sound very glad, though. “Ever since I… ”

… _He still blames himself._

“It wasn’t your fault, you had nothing to do with it. All of _this,_ it’s on me. I’ll work through it.” He fidgets with the wrappings on his fingers. They're all torn up from the amount of abuse it's seen since the start of this trip. “I’m already getting better. And it’s all thanks to you, you know? If you hadn’t pushed me to audition for Octavius— ”

“You’re welcome. I’m happy for you.”

The edge in his voice tells Tweek that it couldn't be further from the truth.

* * *

It takes Tweek ten minutes before the thought of even going over to the table crosses his mind, and it takes him another ten more to gather up the courage to actually do it. He starts stiffly marching over, the eyes of his friends curiously trained on him just as he’s about to approach.

“Hey, Tweek, slow down! Where are you rushing off to?”’

“Uhm, I’m a little busy right now,” He side steps the auburn haired boy, determined to reach his destination, but his path’s promptly blocked off again.

“I think that you could spare just a few minutes for me, right? I mean, we barely even got to know each other.”

“I’m sorry, Michael. Maybe later?”

“Come on, surely you have better things to waste your time on than those sort.”

Tweek pauses. What the _fuck_ did this prick just say?

“And what sort is that, exactly?” Tweek bites out.

“Oh, you know, people like Kenneth McCormick. You’d have so much more fun hanging out with me, and my group. We could—”

Tweek has the surging urge to rip out the guy’s throat. Instead, he swallows down the onslaught of anger and fear that’s clawing its way up his chest.

_Like a coward._

“Excuse me.” Tweek nods with a polite smile, bowing his head as he pushes past Michael.

His march continues onward, stiff steps transitioning into irate stomping. He stops right beside Craig, who has apparently decided on a whim to not make any further eye contact.

“Are you— _agh—_ are you mad at me, man?”

“What? No.”

“Then why have you been glaring at me throughout, like, half the day?”

“... I was just thinking about something. “

Tweek sighs. “It— It’s okay. _Is_ everything okay, though?”

“Yep.”

“As if, asshole. Tweek, he’s been ignoring us the whole damn time,” Clyde folds his arms around his chest, huffing in annoyance.

Jimmy nods. “Yeah, what in the he— the he— What’s _wrong_ with you today?”

“Nothing. I said I’m _fine.”_

“Does it have anything to do with Stripe? Did I accidentally hurt him when I held him yesterday—”

“Wait, hold up. Craig let you hold Stripe? Craig never lets _anyone_ hold Stripe!”

“Shut up, Clyde.” Craig drags through gritted teeth.

Tweek notices someone lean forward in the sidelines. It’s Token, silently watching the entire scene with his lips pressed flat, studying the reactions on Craig’s face. His eyebrows are mildly furrowed, as if his mind was working furiously to piece something together. Something in there must have finally clicked, because he tilts his head with a knowing smile.

“Leave Craig alone. I think that he has a lot on his plate right now.”

“What plate? We already ate,” Clyde said.

Token just quietly facepalms.

“I love hanging out with you guys. It’s like the jokes j-j-just write themselves.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this shit. Tweek, you got a minute?”

“Uhm, me? Yeah… sure?”

Craig’s already walked off before Tweek’s even finished giving his response. He quickened his pace, struggling to close the distance the long strides make with every step.

“Where— Where are we going?”

“On a walk. I need some air.”

Cold wind hits Tweek deep in his bones when they exit into the backyard, and Craig leads them up an old, cobblestone path. The piercing calls that the birds and insects in the forest make are now like needles to his eardrums, the screeching intensity of the sounds only matched by the drumming of Tweek’s own racing heartbeat.

Meanwhile, Craig hasn’t said a word. A heavy atmosphere of anticipation hangs in the air, so dense that Tweek could taste the faint acidity it brings along with it. He starts to sweat. He begins to feel like he should say something— _anything,_ but all mannerisms of speech and conversation are fleeting his mind, and he’s silently wishing he could just dig a hole into the ground and disappear inside of it.

“Tweek, I—”

A strong gust of wind blows through them, and it lifts away the familiar blue off the top of Craig’s head.

“Craig, your hat!”

Before he even realises, his legs are carrying him across densely thick patches of grass, boots splashing across shallow river streams. He’s hyper-focused on the loose flapping of the fabric as it sails, then _dives._ Tweek dives along with it, arm outstretched as his fingers barely grasp onto its ends.

_Got it!_

And now he’s falling, the ground beneath him disappearing into a steep edge off into the rushing rivers below.

_Oh, Shit._

Time seems to slow as his body leans over, unable to fight the force of gravity that’s actively working against him. He sees the rushing white that foams rabidly at the bottom, and he can only stare blankly into the snarling teeth of danger that awaits.

_Guess this is how I die._

An arm wraps around his waist, pulling on him, _hard._ They stumble as Tweek trips over his own feet, useless after facing the threat of imminent death, and they fall together backwards onto forest ground; Tweek, into a solid wall of chest, and a safe, warm embrace. He turns his head upwards to thank his saviour.

“Tweek, are you alright—” At the same time, Craig had inclined himself downwards, and their faces are now mere centimeters apart.

They’re _impossibly_ close.

“I— _Agh—_ I’m okay— Oh god,” If Tweek’s not already actively dying from the heart attack he had just before, he surely must be dying of one right now. He pushes himself off of Craig, and _definitely_ out of that extremely suggestive position.

“Dude, that was fucking dangerous! You almost fucking died!”

“It’s just that you— That you wear it everyday and— and, It just seemed important to you.”

He places the chullo apprehensively into Craig’s open palm. For a minute, Craig only stares at the object in his hand, saying nothing in response.

“... It is.” The hand eventually closes into a fist, clenching the limp piece tightly in its grasp. “My mom. She gave it to me.”

“That’s really sweet! You both must be really close.”

“Yeah, we were. She was great.” Tweek’s stomach immediately sinks.

“O-Oh. God, I’m so sorry. ”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

Craig stands up, brushing the dirt off the back of his jeans. He gestures for Tweek to follow him, and they eventually settle themselves under a large tree, branches studded with the beginnings of a freshly new foliage. The intense adrenaline from before now fades into a quiet tranquility, the forest ringing with the faint trills of faraway birds.

“Dude,” Craig speaks up, breaking the silence. “I’ve been trying to understand something for the longest time. Why do you hang out with Kenny?”

Tweek frowns. _What is everyone’s issue with him today?_

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with Kenny?”

“It's like he's always hiding something,” Craig said. “I don't trust him. Also, he’s an ass.”

The bluntness of that sentence nearly makes Tweek laugh aloud. “Kenny’s… I know that he might come off as a little abrasive sometimes. But on the inside, I swear he’s one of the kindest people you’d ever meet.” Tweek feels his gaze unfocus, the trees blending into a blur of greens. “It’s difficult to see what a person is truly like. Especially when they’re trying their hardest to not show anyone.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What? What— _Agh_ — What is it?”

“Don’t worry, dude. It’s not something bad.”

Craig relaxes his weight against the tree, an arm lazily draped over a perched knee. He rests his jaw over a loose fist, the leaf-speckled shadows splotching the shade of his clothing into dark navy.

“How did you and Kenny end up as friends?”

“Uhm, that’s kind of a long story, man.”

“We’ve got time.”

“Oh. Right.”

From the way that he’s phrasing it, attempting to diverge topics probably isn’t going to work, either. He sighs, drooping his head in reluctant acceptance.

“We’ve been in the same schools together since, uh, Elementary? Small towns, you know?”

Craig nods. “The worst.”

Tweek gives a wry smile in response.

“We met in drama club, back when we were kids. He was adorable then,” He grins to himself at the memory of a young Kenny, all bundled up in his extremely oversized orange parka, two front teeth gapingly missing whenever he smiled.

“Even though he’s older than me, he used to tell me all time about how ‘talented’ I was,” Tweek’s fingers go up in mock air quotes. “And how he wished he was ‘more like me’. All of that kind of stopped after awhile, though. Then the, uhm, bullying started.”

His head sinks even further. He doesn’t have the courage to look Craig in the face— to see the reaction to his pathetic confession. He settles on tracing shapes into the dirt, the cool abrasion of the soil against his fingertips a kind distraction from the deep sense of shame he’s feeling.

“At first, I tried fighting back. But then I realised it just made things… _bad._ Because they’d just tell me how they would make it even worse if I did. And it was. Every time.” The lines he’s drawing are growing uneven with how much his hands are shaking.

Tweek sucks in a breath. “He used to be one of them.”

Inwardly, he had hoped that he wouldn’t have to expand anymore on that sentence, and yet the intense look that Craig’s giving gnaws at him.

“The— The bullies,” He chokes out.

The sharp peaks of his knees draw close to his chest, his arms wrapping around to clasp them tight.

“And you’re _friends_ with him?”

“He was never part of the beatings! Really, I doubt that he even knew that they were happening,” Tweek wrings his hands on his clothing, smearing dirt onto the dark greens of his jacket.

“Because, one time, he’d accidentally stumbled in during one of the…. _sessions._ And he gave up _everything_ just to stand up for a lo— for _someone,_ like me. I’m really grateful for that.” Tweek said. “Kenny’s never had the best home life. So I understand, why he did all the things he did, and why he’d hung out with those people back then.”

Tweek wants it all to stop. He wants to escape. And he wants nothing more than to crumple into his bed and scream, and cry, and sob. He resists, because there is something else he feels he must confess.

“And, I _know_ it’s shitty of me to say this, but sometimes, I’m not sure if Kenny’s friends with me just out of guilt, or if he genuinely wants to be.”

And it’s a thought that, in spite of how well he knows Kenny, drifts in and out of his conscience. A ghost in his thoughts that lurks, and waits. That’s always there. He braces himself, waiting for the usual reaction he always gets whenever it comes to this _damn_ subject.

The apologies. The sad, empathetic, faces. The I’m-so-sorry’s. The pity. The fucking _pity._

Craig pulls off his chullo and reclines, the coarse locks of his hair pressing flat against the bark of the tree behind him. His eyes close as if in deep contemplation, the brief rustling of leaves in the wind their only accompaniment in the silence that follows.

“Thanks for sharing that with me. But I’m sure that Kenny’s not just friends with you out of guilt.”

The words are unexpected, and definitely not what he had prepared himself for. They wield sharp like daggers, tips tainted with an acrid poison that spills out of his lips in the form of a bitter, humourless laugh.

“Yeah, and how would you know that?” 

“Because you’re a good person. And you’re fun to be around. And… stuff,” Craig flops the blue fabric in his hands across the span of his face. “Anyone would be happy to be your friend.”

“What? I have nothing to offer. Why would anyone even— ”

“Tweek,” Craig pushes himself upright, his hat falling into the confines of his lap.

His pinched features are finally falling away into one that Tweek’s imperceptibly grown to _long_ for. Slightly parted lips, edges that lift into a slight smile, and the warmth that always follows; A glow that ignites fire into his eyes, melting ice into calm seas of cerulean.

“I’m glad. That we’re friends.”

It’s fascinating how gentle the usually cold, baritone voice could be. It reminded Tweek of the low, rumbling of distant thunder; the signal of a coming storm. The sound reverberates in his chest, an echo chamber where it bounces and repeats itself in quiet, murmured whispers.

“And we always will be. _I’ll always be here._ I promise.”

He sticks out his pinky.

And It’s at this defining moment, in which that Tweek Tweak _finally_ allows himself to grasp the fact that he irrevocably, _indisputably,_ has a huge, fucking, crush on Craig Tucker.

“Me too, Craig. I’ll always be here for you, too.”

It’s an oath that travels through the pathways of their conjoined fingers, sinking through skin and bones, a constant reminder that will forever remain. It entwines the pair with its strings, their lives now meant to meander in their twisting roads.

Instantly it fills him with dread, a nagging voice inside that screams and flashes red with warnings about how he’d be betrayed. That he shouldn’t trust him. And that once again, he’d be left behind.

_Alone._

And yet, despite it _all:_ the anxiety, the disbelief, the fear— Tweek realises that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i'm going to update this fic weekly!!! i love writing!!!  
> also me: takes 1 month to update
> 
> I love you guys, and I'm so sorry. So much has happened within the past month that it's been hard to even think about or even continue writing. Reading you guys' comments is probably the only motivation for me to continue this fic at the moment. 
> 
> Also I'd like to thank ThunderGeek for being such a supportive friend through tough times. I love and appreciate them so much. Please do check out their SP fics because they're amazing! Thanks AO3 for allowing me to meet such an amazing person ; ; 
> 
> Please interact with me! You can find me @ https://itsmeiiii.tumblr.com/ !


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